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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


K'  SA' 


FREDERIC  THOMAS  ELANCHARD 


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NO   ROOM  IN  TftE  INN 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 

THE  SONG  OF  OUR  SYRIAN  GUEST 

THE  LOVE  WATCH 

SAINT  ABIGAIL  OF  THE  PINES 

THE  SIGNS  IN  THE  CHRISTMAS  FIRE 

THE  SHEPHERD  OF  JEBEL  NUR 

NO  ROOM  IN  THE  INN 


SHE  LAID  HIM  IN  A  MANGER 


NO  ROOM   IN 
THE  INN 

BY 
WILLIAM    ALLEN    KNIGHT 

Author  of 
"  The  Song  of  Our  Syrian  Guest,"  etc. 


J~ 

(( 


THE    PILGRIM    PRESS 
BOSTON       HEW  YORK       CHICAGO 


Copyright,  19 10 
By  William  Allen  Knight 


Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  London 
All  rights  reserved 

Published  September  i,  1910 


THE  •  PLIMPTON  -PRESS 

[WD-O] 
NORWOOD  -MASS-  U  'S'A 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

I.   Along  a  Bridle-path I 

II.   Around  a  Camp-fire 7 

III.  Our  Dragoman's  Secret 22 

IV.  A  Woman  of  Bethlehem 39 

V.  Bethlehem  and  the  Prince 5* 


1003030 


NO   ROOM   IN 
THE   INN 


I.   ALONG  A  BRIDLE-PATH 

WHEN  shall  I  forget  that  night  by  the  cook's 
fire  in  camp  at  Nablus! 
We  had  ridden  all  day  in  the  glare  of 
the  Syrian  sun,  ridden  on  and  on  wher 
ever  the  bridle-path  found  a  way  over  plain  and  hill, 
until  nightfall  sent  a  quick  chill  through  our  weary 
bones.  But  at  last  we  heard  the  voice  of  the  stream 
that  welcomes  travelers  where  the  path  from  Galilee 
emerges  on  the  highway.  So  in  good  heart  we  rode 
for  the  lights  of  Nablus  shining  dimly  through  smoke 
in  the  valley,  while  Ebal  and  Gerizim  loomed  hugely 
in  the  dark  on  either  hand.  And  then,  supper  being 
ended,  and  the  night  wind  mist-laden,  and  the  cook  a 
friendly  soul,  we  lounged  hi  a  tent  snug  with  the 
warmth  of  a  charcoal  fire  and  sundry  savory  odors, 
while  our  cot-tents  waited  in  a  spectral  group  outside, 
and  dogs  barked  at  the  rising  moon. 

But  better  even  than  such  creature-comfort  after 
a  long  day's  riding  is  the  talk  of  that  night  hi  my 
memory. 

There  were  four  of  us  —  Maloof  and  I,  the  mule 
teer  listening  by  the  door  and  baring  his  white  teeth 
with  half  understanding  smiles  between  naps,  and 


NO    ROOM    IN    THE    INN 


the  old  Arab  cook.  One  who  had  shared  this  and  many 
another  day  with  me  was  already  dreaming  in  her 
white  tent  out  in  the  moonlight.  We  had  been  in 
our  saddles  some  thirty  miles  since  morning,  and  in 
those  parts  that  is  like  fifty  over  a  Christian  highway 

-  yes,  more  than  fifty.    For  the  thin  bridle-path  we 
had  followed  seemed,  notwithstanding  its  venerable 
age,  to  sport  with  us  like  a  boy  in  the  game  of  "  fox 
and  hounds."     More  than  once  it  suddenly  vanished 
in  a  newly  plowed  patch  on  some  plain.    Then  it 
reappeared  and  ran,  zigzag  or  winding,  through  a 
brook's  bed,  up  or  down  a  ravine,  along  a  shelving 
trail  around  rocky  hilltops,  and  at  last  tangled  itself 
among  numberless  other  paths  on  a  steep  slope  be 
yond,  with  nothing  that  I  could  see  to  show  whether 
we  should  go  this  way  or  that. 

But  Maloof,  good  dragoman  that  he  was,  always 
singled  out  the  rover  for  us  with  the  ease  of  instinct. 
When  I  asked  how  he  knew  our  way  among  so  many, 
he  only  laughed  quietly.  He  was  ever  sparing  of 
words  when  we  spoke  in  his  praise.  "It  is  of  your 
kindness  that  you  say  so,"  or  some  such  phrase,  was 
all  he  ever  said.  Nevertheless,  I  saw  the  shine  of  a 
tear  once  when  he  made  this  reply,  after  bringing  us 
to  safe  shelter  out  of  a  storm;  and  that  told  more 
than  many  words. 

Poor  fellow,  he  had  need  of  cheering  speech  now 
and  then,  no  doubt;  for  he  had  neither  wife  nor  child 

-  so  he  let  me  understand  once  when  I  ventured  to 
ask  —  neither  wife  nor  child  to  stay  his  manhood 
with  joy  in  his  skill,  and  he  had  been  traveling  these 
lonely  paths  for  years.    Yet  he  knew  the  tender 


NO    ROOM    IN    THE    INN  3 

meanings  of  such  relationships,  as  you  shall  see 
presently,  knew  them  somehow,  as  many  men  whose 
lives  are  securely  bound  therein  do  not. 

Such  a  path  often  puzzled  our  hardy  little  horses 
to  find  footing.  More  than  once  it  sent  the  long- 
eared  donkey  rambling  off  with  his  pack  of  luggage, 
patient  and  alone,  until  the  muleteer  missed  him 
and  set  up  a  babel  of  guttural  cries,  or  the  little  fellow 
stopped  in  mute  disgust.  But  for  the  most  part  our 
poor  beasts  had  scant  help  from  us  as  they  footed 
the  rocky  way.  For  the  Syrian  sun  makes  an  Arab 
doze  and  a  white  man  dream.  But  I  was  kept  awake 
watching  Maloof  —  this  dragoman  of  ours  who  could 
make  ruffians  cower  like  spaniels,  yet  was  so  know 
ing  in  affairs  of  the  heart!  In  the  dream-light  of 
that  shimmering  day  I  saw  glimpses  of  the  man  which 
set  me  wondering  about  him. 

Once  —  it  was  by  the  pool  just  beyond  the  olive 
orchards  around  Lubiyeh  —  we  came  up  in  time  to 
catch  four  herdsmen  hi  the  act  of  pouncing  on  a  man 
of  Nazareth,  whose  donkey  betrayed  his  master  by 
refusing  to  budge.  Maloof  stepped  hi  with  a  voice 
that  quelled  the  uproar,  drew  lines  on  the  ground  with 
his  riding  stick,  poured  out  Arabic  comment  on  the 
same,  then  with  a  wave  of  his  arm  sent  the  old  donkey 
rider  on  his  way,  while  the  belligerents  slunk  back 
and  let  him  go.  Even  the  donkey  seemed  to  recog 
nize  Maloof  as  his  superior.  But  what  those  marks 
on  the  ground  had  to  do  with  it  all,  I  still  wonder; 
for  our  dragoman  only  laughed  when  we  asked  him. 

Some  days  later  Maloof  showed  mastery  of  even 
higher  order.  A  band  of  robbers?  No,  not  exactly 


4  NO    ROOM    IN    THE    INN 

an  affair  of  that  class,  though  I  have  seen  men  lose 
priceless  possessions  in  similar  situations.  The 
gleam  of  a  long  afternoon  was  softening  toward  twi 
light.  Our  path  suddenly  broke  away  from  the  hills 
and  trailed  over  a  flowered  plain  with  no  other  pur 
pose  apparent  than  to  give  us  a  look  at  faces  around 
a  rock-mouthed  well,  where  Syrian  girls,  striding 
lithely  from  their  village  with  earthen  jars  on  their 
erect  heads,  were  drawing  water.  And  what  faces 
they  were!  I  hope  it  is  no  disloyalty  to  say  that  not 
a  few  western  debutantes  would  exchange  their  own 
tame  features  for  some  we  there  saw  and  count 
them  proud  acquisitions,  once  they  were  well  cleaned. 
But,  to  tell  the  whole  truth  without  flinching,  there 
were  certain  faces  around  that  sky-covered  old  well 
which  were  clean  as  well  as  beautiful,  and  conscious 
thereof,  as  any  man  could  see  at  a  glance.  I  inwardly 
thanked  the  wayward  path  for  this  favor,  so  finely 
molded  were  some  of  those  sun-browned  counte 
nances,  so  lustrous  and  warm  were  their  full-rounded, 
dark,  and  for  the  most  part  modest  eyes.  But  the 
manly  bearing  of  Maloof,  his  genial  kindness  tem 
pered  with  a  gentleman's  reserve  amid  these  ragged 
graces,  charmed  me  more  than  their  peasant  beauty. 
Once  and  again  the  bridle-path  led  over  the  very 
door-stones  in  narrow  lanes  winding  between  a 
village's  mud-built  hovels.  Then  the  children  and 
an  old  woman  or  two  would  swarm  out  to  babble 
"  bakshish,"  the  ceaseless  call  in  the  East  for  a 
bit  of  coin;  but  the  men  did  not  join  them.  No, 
while  Maloof  pushed  on,  sitting  his  big  native  saddle 
like  a  field-marshal,  they  only  answered  our  greeting 


NO    ROOM    IN    THE    INN  5 

with  a  courtesy  surprising  amid  such  squalor.  "  Ne- 
harak  sa'eed,"  said  we,  taught  by  Maloof's  example, 
which  is  a  salutation  of  the  land — "thy  day  be 
happy,"  much  like  our  "  good  day."  And  they, 
tattered  peasants  of  Palestine,  answered  in  fuller 
phrase,  "  Neharak  sa'eed  umbarak  "  —  "thy  day 
be  happy  and  blessed."  A  man  seated  on  the  ground 
after  the  manner  of  the  East  would  spring  to  his  feet 
as  he  said  this ;  and  I  would  try  in  vain  to  show  with 
my  own  hand  and  body  the  grace  of  his  response  as 
his  hand  lightly  touched  breast,  lips,  forehead.  It 
was  as  if  he  kissed  his  hand  to  you  while  it  passed 
from  heart  to  head  —  and  he  a  poor  peasant  of  the 
fields  and  sheep-walks,  whose  sinewy  legs  showed 
bare  at  the  parting  of  his  long,  coarse  cloak! 

I  have  lingered  on  this  scene  because,  as  Maloof 
told  us,  this  courtesy  was  sign  and  token  of  an  ancient 
hospitality  in  the  Holy  Land  which  is  close  to  the  heart 
of  the  tale  here  told.  But  closer  still  is  what  I  saw  of 
Maloof  himself,  as  we  rode  out  of  a  village's  hubbub. 
A  group  of  urchins  were  playing  on  the  dunghill  which 
usually  rises  outside  a  village  of  Palestine,  grown  to 
a  high  and  dusty  mound  by  the  dumpings  of  centu 
ries.  They  ran  out  beside  our  horses,  their  little  bare 
breasts  showing  brown  and  plump.  Among  them 
was  a  mite  of  a  girl,  whose  baby  feet  softly  picked 
their  way  over  the  stones,  while  her  tiny  hand  was 
held  out  winningly.  Maloof  smiled  down  at  the  child 
and  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  Look  at  those  eyes,  sir!  " 
This  occurred  more  than  once,  indeed.  I  noticed  that 
it  was  always  a  girl-child  that  drew  such  words  from 
him.  Yet,  pondering  on  our  dragoman's  make-up  as 


6  NO    ROOM    IN    THE    INN 

I  was,  it  must  be  confessed  that  I  failed  then  even  to 
guess  that  there  was  any  significance  in  this  beyond 
Maloof's  share  in  impulses  common  to  most  men. 

Through  such  glimpses  of  lowly  life  quite  forgotten 
by  the  big,  modern  world,  we  had  come  to  Nablus 
and  a  captivating  knowledge  of  our  dragoman.  He 
had  permitted  my  horse  to  trudge  on  behind  most  of 
the  day.  For  the  muleteer  had  a  habit  of  his  class 
which  consists  in  creeping  up  now  and  then  to  whack 
your  horse  astern,  accompanying  this  well-meant 
service  with  a  gruntlike  utterance,  a  certain  horrify 
ing  "  unnhh,"  raking  his  inward  parts;  all  of  which 
startles  the  rider  far  more  than  the  horse.  Then  he 
fell  to  singing  in  weird,  guttural  quavers !  And  the 
dirge  was  sometimes  a  mile  long ! 

With  the  music  of  Galilee  in  one's  ears,  the  sweet, 
mellow  music  of  its  lake  and  hills,  who  would  not 
wish  to  listen  to  its  still  melodies  without  such  peri 
odic  assaults,  as  he  rides  away  through  the  silences 
of  Samaria!  The  muleteer  understood  nothing  of 
this,  and  innocently  enough  renewed  his  hair-raising 
attacks  in  spite  of  all  we  could  say.  But  Maloof 
understood !  Therefore  he  yielded  to  my  request 
and  let  me  ride  far  behind,  only  keeping  a  watchful 
eye  over  his  shoulder. 

Dear  Maloof !  It  was  a  trial  to  you  to  have  it  so, 
no  doubt;  for  the  way  was  long  to  Nablus,  and  dan 
gerous  Bedouins  were  in  those  hills.  But  you  have 
at  least  this  recompense,  that  whenever  I  recall  the 
happiness  of  that  long  quiet  in  the  saddle,  your  name 
sounds  hi  my  memory  amid  the  musings  which  were 
so  sweet  through  its  sunny  hours. 


JOSEPH  AND  MARY  AT  JACOB'S  WRLL. 


II.   AROUND   A   CAMP-FIRE 

THE  day  itself  was  now  a  memory.     In  the 
tent's   shelter,   Maloof   and  the   cook  —  for 
the  muleteer  was  silent  enough  now  —  were 
chatting  in  bubbling  Arabic  across  the  long 
iron  brazier  wherein  dying  coals  glowed  dimly  amid 
gray  ashes.     The  cook  was  squatted  on  a  low,  four- 
legged,  backless  chair,  much  used  in  that  country, 
his  apron  of  well-worn  cotton  making  an  ample  re 
pository  for  spoons,   cups,   and  the   like,   while  he 
scraped  together  enough  live  coals  now  and  then  to 
make  his  small  copper  pot  boil  one  more  round  of 
Turkish  coffee.     Maloof  sat  in  a  camp-chair,  leaning 
toward  the  fragrant  warmth  with  elbows  on  his  knees, 
and  the  dark  red  fez  which  he  never  removed  pushed 
back  from  a  shining  forehead. 

I  had  watched  them  sip  the  black  liquid  from  small 
cups  without  handles,  watched  them  blow  it  leisurely 
and  sip  it  steaming  hot  while  they  talked  on,  watched 
their  big  eyes  dark  as  their  coffee  in  the  candle  light, 
until  my  own  eyes  were  half  shut  and  the  scene 
became  all  but  a  dream.  At  length  Maloof  glanced 
toward  the  spot  where  I  was  stretched,  reclining  on 
a  pile  of  blankets  which  he  had  devised.  Seeing 
that  I  was  still  awake,  he  said  in  a  quiet  tone: 

"  Galilee  is  a  dear  land,  sir,  is  it  not?  "  His  smile 
showed  how  well  he  had  understood  why  I  wished 
to  ride  alone  through  the  day.  Maloof  was  a  remark- 


8  NO    ROOM    IN    THE    INN 

able  dragoman  in  many  respects,  but  most  of  all  in 
this,  that  he  seemed,  after  years  of  laborious  jour 
neying  through  those  sacred  solitudes,  to  keep  as 
fresh  a  sense  of  their  charm,  as  tender  joy  therein, 
as  one  has  on  viewing  them  for  the  first  time.  I 
found  myself  growing  eager  to  account  for  this.  It 
is  unusual  hi  dragomans  thereabout,  notwithstanding 
their  glib  explanations,  and  is,  indeed,  quite  beyond 
reasonable  expectation  hi  the  ordinary  working  of 
human  nature.  I  began  to  suspect  that  some  ro 
mance  of  his  own  heart,  intertwined  perhaps  with  the 
supreme  drama  of  history  there  laid,  was  renewing 
for  him  year  after  year  the  sanctities  forever  lingering 
amid  those  hushed  hills  and  valleys.  It  was  this, 
let  me  own,  which  roused  me  to  talk  of  the  day's 
musings.  Perhaps  by  sharing  them  with  our  drago 
man  the  thoughts  of  his  own  heart  would  be  revealed. 

But,  alas,  the  richest  treasures  of  feeling  often  lose 
their  luster  when  they  are  carried  into  the  dry  air  of 
speech.  They  are  like  shells  and  pebbles  gathered 
by  the  sea,  shining  and  rich  with  colors  when  you 
lift  them  dripping  with  tide  waters,  dull  and  common 
enough  when  borne  away  to  be  shown  to  other  eyes. 
Try  as  I  did,  I  found  myself  failing  to  convey  the 
real  delights  of  the  day's  meditations  in  off-hand 
words.  Maloof  sat  listening  appreciatively,  but  that 
was  all. 

"  A  dear  land,  indeed,  is  Galilee  !  "  said  he,  watch 
ing  a  fading  glow  hi  the  brazier. 

Then  there  came  to  mind  a  cherished  belief  of 
mine  that  the  supreme  worth  of  form  and  what  is 
called  atmosphere  in  language  is  in  this,  that  thereby 


NO    ROOM    IN    THE    INN  9 

thoughts  born  of  feeling  can  be  conveyed  to  others 
in  their  native  state.  It  is  the  sacred  office  of  literary 
art  to  carry  the  sea  air  and  the  moisture  of  tides  with 
the  pebble  and  the  shell  that  they  may  not  lose  their 
life.  The  simpler  the  literary  setting  the  better,  if 
only  it  keeps  and  carries  the  natural  hues  of  some 
genuine  emotion. 

So  thinking,  I  was  emboldened  to  choose  a  small 
product  of  the  day  and  make  trial  of  it  on  Maloof. 

"  Would  you  like  to  hear  something  that  has  been 
running  through  my  mind  to-day,"  I  asked,  "  some 
verses  on  the  lake  up  there?  " 

"  Oh,  was  that  it !  "  He  twitched  his  broad  shoul 
ders  in  his  oriental  way  expressive  of  good-natured 
compliance.  "  It  would  be  pleasant  indeed." 

Quickly  he  spoke  a  few  words  in  Arabic.  The  cook 
turned  toward  me  with  a  silent  gaze.  The  muleteer 
sat  open-mouthed.  Maloof  squared  himself  about, 
crossed  his  legs,  leaning  back  with  hands  clasped  over 
his  knee,  and  turned  his  head  to  listen.  It  was  a 
hard  test  for  my  verses ;  but  I  faced  it  for  the  sake  of 
doing  all  I  could  to  kindle  Maloof's  memories  into 
flame.  And  in  truth,  the  famous  lake  had  so  laid  its 
spell  upon  me,  had  seemed  so  like  a  thing  of  life 
there  among  Galilee's  hills  because  of  its  beauty  and 
memories,  that  I  rather  enjoyed  saying  over  once 
more  lines  which  had  been  repeated  many  times  to 
the  accompaniment  of  my  saddle's  rhythmic  creaking. 
The  reader  may  possibly  wish  to  hear  them  as  they 
sounded  in  the  cook's  tent. 


io  NOROOMINTHEINN 

TO  LAKE  GALILEE 

I  hear  you,  bright  waters,  your  murmur  I  hear! 
I  know  why  you  ripple  and  leap  at  my  feet  — 
I,  too,  know  the  story  you  feign  would  repeat ; 

But  tell  it  again  to  my  listening  ear. 

"Pis  evening  once  more  on  your  quiet,  green  hills. 

Were  they  tinted  like  this  in  that  even  of  yore  ? 

Did  you  press  then  as  now  on  your  pebble-white  shore 
To  see  in  the  sunset  the  folk  with  their  ills? 

And  did  you  see  Him?     See  the  touch  of  His  hand? 

Hear  the  moans  as  they  changed  into  cries  of  quick  joy? 

You  thrill,  and  to  speak  all  your  powers  employ  — 
That  wavelet  enfolded  my  feet  on  the  sand. 

At  morn,  unto  fishers  not  far  from  your  strand, 
In  remembrance  of  Him  I  sounded  the  cry, 
"  Have  ye  caught  any  fish?  "     And  I  heard  them  reply  ; 

I  beckoned,  and  straightway  they  rowed  for  the  land. 

I  gathered  some  sticks  and  built  me  a  fire  ; 

There  rose  from  the  beach  its  wreath  of  white  smoke  ; 

Then  I  thought  of  the  fish,  and  the  bread  that  He  broke, 
Till  my  heart  was  aflame  with  a  holy  desire. 

"  Naught  to  eat !     Naught  to  eat  I  "   Like  the  fishers  depressed, 
I  turned  ;  there  were  passing  two  men  of  the  land  ; 
And  one  bore  a  string  of  small  fish  in  his  hand, 

The  other  round  barley-bread  cakes  at  his  breast ! 

"  How  oft  He  was  known  in  the  breaking  of  bread ! " 
I  mused,  while  the  fire  burned  bright  on  the  sand  ; 
"  How  oft  when  their  spirits  could  ne'er  understand 

His  kindness  disclosed  what  in  vain  He  had  said  I " 

I  know  that  you  heard  Him  say,  "  Lovest  thou  me?" 
To  one  who  stood  here  in  that  morning  of  yore  ; 
But  a  sinful  man  heard  it  to-day  on  your  shore ! 

Did  you  hear  what  he  answered  Him,  beautiful  Sea? 


NO    ROOM    IN    THE    INN  n 

The  sun  no  more  watches.     Gennesaret's  lea, 
The  hills,  e'en  the  winds,  in  the  dark  are  asleep. 
No  spot  is  so  dear  my  avowal  to  keep  : 

Thou  knowest  I  love  Him  who  loved  Galilee ! 

The  cook  returned  his  eyes  to  the  dragoman. 
Soon,  without  a  word,  the  old  Mohammedan  threw 
his  head  back  and  emptied  the  coffee-cup  held  un 
touched  while  he  listened.  Maloof,  still  leaning 
back  with  his  hands  over  his  knee,  looked  at  me  in 
silence.  Presently  a  smile  began  to  play  about  his 
eyes  and  mouth. 

"Water-music!"  said  he.    After   a   moment  he 
added,  "  I  wish  you  would  write  of  the  hills,  also  - 
of  Nazareth  and  the  hills." 

Ah,  think  as  you  may  of  the  verses  I  have  ventured 
to  repeat  for  you,  friend !  They  found  the  heart  of 
Maloof,  and  for  that  they  are  dear  to  me  —  for  that 
and  the  memories  of  Galilee  they  sound. 

"  There  is  a  sweet  story  waiting  to  be  told  out  of 
Nazareth,"  he  went  on.  "  It  begins,  I  mean  to  say, 
in  that  town  ;  but  it  runs  along  this  very  path  through 
the  hills,  runs  on  past  Nablus  and  Jerusalem,  even 
to  Bethlehem  in  the  south." 

I  waited,  expectant  of  some  glimpse  into  his  own 
heart. 

' '  I  think  of  it  whenever  I  ride  out  of  Nazareth  on 
this  journey  to  Judea.  I  was  a  boy  myself  in  Naza 
reth,  sir,  and  — ah,  it  is  a  lovely  story!" 

What  was  it  that  he  left  unsaid  ?  That  broken  sen 
tence,  I  fancied,  might  have  touched  the  mysterious 
cause  of  this  man's  ever  fresh  joy  hi  those  paths.  It 
was  an  eager  moment  for  me.  That  his  own  boy- 


NO    ROOM    IN    THE    INN 


hood  had  been  in  Nazareth  and  was  recalled  as  he 
thought  of  the  Nazarene's  youth  there  —  this,  at 
least,  was  now  disclosed.  Surely  there  was  some 
thing  unusual  which  made  the  story  of  the  Blessed 
Mother's  journey  from  Nazareth,  before  that  divine 
boyhood  began,  hold  such  a  spell  over  him  hi  his 
late  prime.  For  I  learned  long  since  that  the  holiest 
truths  of  religion  lose  their  glow  hi  the  rub  of  life  for 
most  men  unless  some  alloy  of  common  human  ex 
perience  has  been  fused  with  their  pure  gold  —  unless 
some  joy  or  sorrow  has  been  grafted  on  the  old  tree 
to  bear  fresh  bloom.  I  could  not  doubt,  therefore, 
that  some  personal  element  had  been  blended  in  his 
thought  of  the  sacred  story  of  old,  keeping  it  ever 
fresh  and  bright  for  him,  and  deepening  through  the 
years  that  charm  which  a  Christian  man  finds  therein 
when  his  heart  is  hi  its  Maytime.  For  such  Maloof 
was,  notwithstanding  his  red  fez  and  Arabic  tongue, 
though  I  have  forgotten  until  now  to  say  so. 

"How  shall  the  story  begin,  Maloof?" 

"I  have  of  ten  thought  on  that,  sir.  Why  not  in 
this  manner: 

"The  hills  that  hide  Nazareth  in  its  high  valley  like 
unto  a  nest  hi  the  side  of  Jebel  es  Sikh  had  closed  the 
view  of  their  home  for  two  travelers  journeying  south 
ward  over  the  plain ! " 

"  Eiwa,"  said  the  cook,  listening  and  gazing  at 
the  dragoman.  Your  Arab  dearly  loves  a  tale,  and 
that  is  his  pleasant  word  for  "yes."  Maloof  con 
tinued  : 

44  They  looked  back  many  times.  They  watched 
the  three  ravines  which  run  up  through  those  hills 


NO    ROOM 

to  their  small  town,  until  the  deep  hollows  became 
like  shadows  on  the  line  of  highlands  which  rise 
toward  Jebel  es  Sikh.  But  their  town  they  saw  no 
more,  save  certain  houses  highest  up  on  that  tall  hill 
itself  which  towers  above  it  northward." 

"Go  on,  Maloof !"  said  I,  rising  from  the  pile  of 
blankets  and  leaning  toward  him. 

With  the  hush  of  voice  and  repose  of  face  apt  to 
mark  the  telling  of  a  cherished  tale  in  any  land,  but 
most  of  all  among  orientals,  as  if  the  very  words  were 
stored  in  memory,  the  man's  long  pent  but  now 
welling  thoughts  flowed  on : 

"  In  that  hidden  valley  held  high  by  the  hills  were 
tender  memories  for  them.  The  loves  of  home  were 
there  !  But  above  all  endearments  common  to  those 
who  are  set  in  families  was  this,  that  these  two, 
having  learned  to  love  each  other,  had  there  passed 
through  a  mystery  together.  Even  in  the  happiness 
of  their  betrothal  they  had  faced  a  surprise,  a  strangely 
awakened  expectancy  which  soon  began  to  be  a 
reality,  whispered  at  first  by  trembling  maiden 
lips,  perhaps  to  the  mother's  ear,  and  somehow  made 
known  to  the  lover's  ;  a  mystery,  indeed  —  under 
stood  not  by  the  carpenter  and  grievous  to  his  upright 
heart  for  a  time,  and  understood  by  no  man  through 
the  years  since  then,  though  men  have  spun  many 
webs  out  of  this  secret. 

"By  reason  of  this  experience  the  young  wife,  soon 
to  become  a  mother,  rested  in  her  good  man's  kindness, 
as  they  now  journeyed  together,  with  joy  beyond  the 
wont  of  women  newly  wed.  For  he  had  believed  in 
her  and  made  her  his  wife  even  while  her  heart  was 


I4  NOROOMINTHEINN 

singing  its  strange  song,  '  From  henceforth  all  genera 
tions  shall  call  me  blessed.' 

"  So  with  quiet  gladness  they  traveled  on,  but  not 
forgetting  to  gaze  back  many  times  to  the  hilltops 
beyond  the  plain  which  looked  down  on  their  dear 
Nazareth." 

Maloof  paused,  and  sat  in  meditation.  Soon  he 
added  slowly: 

"  It  is  a  day's  ride,  for  such  as  they,  across  that 
beautiful  plain,  past  the  bare  rocks  of  Little  Hermon, 
and  the  cactus  groves  and  olive  orchards  of  Shu- 
nem,  and  the  old  well  before  you  come  to  Jezreel. 
But  at  last  they  entered  the  hills  on  the  southern  side 
of  the  plain ;  and  the  heights  round  their  highland 
home  passed  from  view  in  the  light  of  sunset.  The 
path  became  harder  for  her  now.  But  the  ways  of 
a  good  man's  love  were  the  same  then  as  unto  this 
day,  and  —  " 

He  hesitated,  with  his  features  working  as  if  moved 
by  emotion  mingled  with  perplexity.  Then  he  looked 
into  my  eyes  appealingly  and  said,  "  You  see  how  the 
story  would  run,  sir." 

Do  you  see,  friend  of  mine  reading  this  narrative 
somewhere  in  the  world?  Believe,  then,  that  he 
who  listened  in  the  still  tent  that  night  was  puzzled 
for  the  right  word.  Maloof  seemed  to  me  to  have 
started  a  tale  having  its  springs,  not  in  the  plain  of 
common  knowledge  through  which  its  rivulet  must 
needs  run,  but  instead  high  in  the  secret  places  of 
his  own  heart,  as  I  had  hoped  he  would.  In  such  a 
case  there  is  no  telling  whither  the  stream  will  wind, 
in  sight  of  what  eternal  heights  or  through  what 


NOROOMINTHEINN  15 

valley's  passing  shadows  and  sunshine,  ere  it  reaches 
sea  tides. 

"  Go  on,  Maloof,  go  on !"  I  said. 

"Ah,  but  I  wish  that  you,  sir,  might  take  up  the 
story  now.  I,  myself,  have  never  found  words  to 
follow  it  —  on  through  these  hills  —  though  I  have 
often  thought  upon  it.  They  would  journey  along 
these  same  hard  paths,  you  know,  hard  even  for 
strong  men  —  and  she,  young,  and  great  with  child  ! 
They  looked  on  the  same  landscape,  bare  now,  as 
you  see,  of  adorning  trees  and  much  else  that  they 
must  have  seen,  yet  still  the  same  hallowed  land. 
They  would  meet  with  ways  of  life  the  likeness  of 
which  we  have  ourselves  watched  in  a  hundred  forms. 
You  must  not  forget  that,  sir,  in  telling  the  story ;  for 
changed  as  the  people  now  are  in  race  and  religion 
and  the  waste  of  centuries,  their  customs  and  traits 
are  strangely  like  what  have  ever  been  here.  The 
magic  of  the  unchanging  East,  I  mean  to  say,  holds 
its  spell  over  this  land.  And  because  of  that  our 
travelers  must  have  found,  according  to  their  need, 
the  ancient  ways  of  hospitality  even  as  you  would 
find  them  now,  sir,  should  need  arise  ;  for  the  tokens 
thereof  we  have  seen  this  day." 

"  Eiwa,  eiwa,"  said  the  cook  heartily. 

"  But  best  of  all,  as  I  said,  the  ways  of  a  good 
man's  love  were  the  same  then  as  now.  Do  you  not 
see  what  a  light,  what  radiancy,  that  throws  on  the 
way  the  story  would  run?" 

His  face  shone  with  tenderness  at  these  words. 
What  could  be  the  cause  of  this  exquisite  sensitive 
ness  of  his  to  the  story  of  Mary  and  Joseph  journeying 


16  NOROOMINTHEINN 

from  Nazareth?  True,  it  is  loved  by  myriads ;  yet 
the  world  over,  so  far  as  I  had  observed  until  now,  it 
is  loved  for  the  sequel  heralded  by  angels  and  dis 
covered  by  shepherds  at  Bethlehem,  rather  than  the 
prior  human  setting  but  briefly  told  in  which  our 
dragoman  evidently  found  a  great  charm. 

While  I  pondered  what  to  say  a  disturbance  was 
heard  among  the  horses  tethered  in  the  moonlight. 
The  muleteer  sprang  up  and  ran  out.  Presently 
Maloof  followed  him.  We  heard  their  Arabic  speech 
gurgling  out  in  the  still  night.  The  cook  and  I  sat 
waiting  for  their  return.  Then  it  was  that  fortune 
favored  me. 

"The  dragoman  loves  that  story,  cook,  doesn't 
he?  I  should  like  to  hear  more  of  it,  if  we  are  not 
keeping  you  awake  too  long." 

"  Eiwa,"  came  the  slow  answer.  After  glancing 
at  the  tent  opening,  he  leaned  toward  me  over  the 
brazier.  "He  loss  —  hees  —  hees — "  The  old  man's 
arms  came  to  his  breast  and  his  body  swayed  as  when 
one  nestles  a  babe.  "  Eiwa  !  non  far  hon!  So  - 
de  —  de  —  la  femme  —  feenish  —  ah,  feenish! " 

Bits  of  French  loose  many  a  tethered  tongue  in 
Arab  lands,  and  "  finish  "  is  a  great  reliance  when 
English  is  essayed. 

"He  lost  his  child  —  not  far  from  here?  And  its 
mother  died?  When?  How  long  ago?  How 
many  years?" 

The  cook  dropped  a  cup  he  still  held  into  his  apron, 
and  began  holding  up  his  fingers  —  five,  then  the  other 
five,  one  hand  at  a  time,  turning  watchful  eyes  on  the 
entrance  meanwhile.  Twenty  fingers  were  raised 


NO    ROOM    IN    THE    INN 


and  counted;  the  old  hands  hung  over  his  knees  as 
if  innocently  idle  when  the  red  fez  of  the  dragoman 
ducked  out  of  the  dark  into  the  tent's  dim  light. 

How  was  I  to  take  advantage  of  this  alluring  glimpse 
into  Maloof 's  life  ?  The  old  man  there  on  the  brazier 
stool,  quietly  scraping  together  one  more  glow  of  coals, 
was  now  known  to  be  an  accomplice  in  my  wish ;  but 
for  some  reason  his  manner  while  we  were  alone,  to 
gether  with  the  confiding  look  stealthily  turned  my 
way  once  and  again  after  Maloof's  return,  admon 
ished  me  to  follow  with  caution  the  clew  he  had  given. 

There  was  a  moment  or  two  of  voluble  Arabic 
chatter  between  the  three  men,  marked  by  much 
picturesque  spreading  of  arms  and  uplifting  of  hands 
in  a  way  that  men  of  the  East  have,  though  it  per 
tained  to  nothing  more  dramatic  than  the  affair  of 
the  horses,  I  judged.  Then  the  dragoman  seated 
himself  as  before  and  turned  to  me  with  a  smile 
which  said  as  plainly  as  words  could  have  done, 
"  Enough  of  that  little  disturbance,  sir;  now  to  our 
story." 

"Tell  me  about  this  hospitality  of  which  you 
spoke,"  I  began. 

It  was  pleasant  to  see  the  relief  in  the  cook's  face 
as  he  turned  to  listen. 

"Our  travelers,"  I  added,  "would  have  need  of 
that,  no  doubt,  journeying  through  such  country  as 
we  have  just  left  behind." 

"Ah!"  he  answered,  "I  like  to  think  how  it  did 
not  fail  them !  You  may  be  sure  that  it  did  not,  in 
these  villages." 

"Eiwa,  eiwa!"     The  cook's  voice  had  a  tone  of 


18  NOROOMINTHEINN 

pleasure  which  we  will  not  attribute  wholly  to  Chris 
tian  interest.  But  he  was  a  good  old  soul,  if  he  was 
a  Moslem! 

Then  Maloof  fell  into  rapid  speech,  telling  how  the 
people  of  that  land  had  always  held  themselves  under 
sacred  bonds  to  provide  for  the  traveler's  need.  He 
had  himself  enjoyed  proof  of  this  time  and  again. 
Indeed,  they  feared  some  calamity  on  themselves 
should  they  fail  hi  this. 

"  They  hasten  to  fetch  water  for  the  stranger," 
said  he,  "  and  they  bathe  his  hands  and  feet;  they 
set  food  before  him;  they  bring  wine;  they  pre 
pare  coffee;  they  sit  around  him  sipping  the  same 
and  talking  as  friends ;  they  press  him  to  tarry  as 
their  guest." 

Then,  laughing  and  coloring  in  proof  of  a  gentle 
man's  thoughts  at  the  memory,  he  told  how  once 
two  daughters  of  the  chief  man  hi  the  village, 
seeing  that  he  was  very  weary,  took  him  to  their 
father's  house  and  gently  obliged  him  to  yield  and 
let  them  bathe  his  feet  hi  warm  water  with  their  own 
womanly  hands ! 

"  And  this  they  did,"  he  said,  suppressing  his 
merriment,  "  because  there  was  no  room  for  me  in 
the  inn,  as  you  would  call  it." 

So  it  was  that  he  told  me  the  first  I  had  ever 
heard  —  though  abundant  confirmation  was  given 
me  afterward  —  about  a  quaint  and  altogether  beau 
tiful  institution  in  Syrian  villages,  including  those  of 
Palestine.  "Medafeh"  it  is  called  by  the  villagers 
of  to-day,  and  great  is  their  pride  therein,  for  the 
Medafeh  is  a  guest-house  belonging  to  the  village 


NO    ROOM    IN    THE    INN  19 

and  set  apart  for  the  use  of  travelers.  Each  village 
is  likely  to  have  one,  and  some  have  more  than  one. 
Where  tourists  have  not  spoiled  the  ancient  beauty 
of  it  all,  its  hospitality  is  still  found  untarnished  by 
expectation  of  recompense. 

"  They  lead  you  to  the  Medafeh,"  said  Maloof, 
"with  kind  words  of  welcome.  One  man,  perhaps, 
shows  a  portion  of  its  wall,  telling  you  that  his  de 
parted  father  laid  the  stones,  which  are  still  solid,  as 
you  can  see ;  a  more  aged  man  may  point  to  some  bit 
of  workmanship  which  he  himself  performed  in  his 
youth.  They  presently  begin  to  claim  the  privilege 
of  providing  this  or  that  for  your  comfort  —  one  will 
come  with  food  for  you  hi  the  morning;  another  will 
at  once  bring  a  blanket,  for  he  observes  that  the  night 
wind  is  cooler  than  usual;  a  third  has  already 
thought  of  the  very  lamb  which  shall  be  prepared 
for  your  dinner  on  the  morrow.  At  last  they  take 
their  leave,  assuring  you  perhaps  that  a  watch  will  be 
set  while  you  sleep,  or  at  least  bidding  you  rest  with 
out  fear. 

"So  it  has  been  in  this  land  from  of  old,  for  they 
believe  that  a  blessing  is  brought  on  their  own  heads 
by  such  kindness  to  strangers.  Do  you  not  remem 
ber  how  the  like  of  this  is  found  many  times  hi  the 
Holy  Bible?  Yes,  it  is  a  very  ancient  custom,  this 
hospitality  of  villagers.  Our  travelers  from  Nazareth 
most  certainly  found  its  comforts  open  to  them  hi 
their  time,  as,  believe  me,  they  are  open  even  in  the 
poverty  of  to-day.  I  myself  —  it  was  years  ago, 
when  my  need  was  great,  sir  —  I  myself  found  it 
as  I  tell  you,  not  far  from  this  spot." 


NO    ROOM    IN    THE    INN 


Silence  followed.  The  cook  glanced  at  me  anx 
iously.  Soon  Maloof  seemed  to  gather  in  wandering 
thoughts. 

"  But  better  than  this  hospitality  of  villagers  - 
better  to  her,  was  her  good  man's  kindness;  no 
doubt  of  that.  I  often  think  how  he  would  cheer  her 
when  she  became  road-weary.  Indeed,  sir,  I  have 
a  strange  fondness  for  pondering  on  how  he  might 
have  talked  to  her  at  such  times.  Here  at  Nablus 
—  you  know  this  is  old  Shechem,  where  they  surely 
came  —  this  fancy  always  fills  my  thoughts.  The 
surroundings  of  Nablus  are  great  with  memories, 
sir,  here  where  these  two  mountains  face  each 
other ! 

"  *  Mary,'  I  think  of  him  saying,  *  Mary,  hear  the 
streams  of  goodly  Shechem  flowing!  It  was  even 
in  this  place  of  springs  that  our  father  Abram  pitched 
his  tent  by  the  oak  of  Moreh  and  God  said  to  him, 
"  Unto  thy  seed  will  I  give  this  land." ' 

"  And  then,  as  they  journeyed  on,  I  fancy  him 
speaking  again.  '  On  the  morrow,  wife,  we  shall  see 
the  well  which  our  father  Jacob  dug ;  it  is  in  the 
parcel  of  ground  which  he  gave  to  his  son  whose 
name  I  bear.  Keep  good  heart,  dear  woman,  amid 
such  scenes ! ' 

"It  is  just  around  this  mountain,  sir,  that  well  — 
we  shall  see  it  in  the  morning  —  and  think  how  Mary's 
Son  sat  by  this  very  well  as  he  journeyed.  But  I 
shall  think,  also,  of  how  the  mother  passed  it  before 
his  birth !  I  shall  hear  her  good  man  saying,  '  There 
it  is,  Mary,  close  by  the  road  —  our  father's  well ! 
Shall  I  bring  you  a  cool  drink?  The  well  is  deep, 


NO    ROOM    IN    THE    INN  2I 

and  its  waters  will  be  sweet  with  memories  for 
you.'  " 

A  hush  had  come  in  the  tent  as  Maloof  talked  on, 
which  gave  a  fitting  moment  for  such  rapt  thoughts. 
The  cook  and  the  muleteer  were  nodding,  and  so  heavy 
with  sleep  were  they  that  Maloof  and  I  were  as  good 
as  alone.  The  brazier's  coals  had  faded  to  gray 
ashes. 

"  But  it  is  long  past  time  for  us  to  turn  in,  sir!  " 
he  said. 

"  And  we  will  go  on  with  the  story  in  the  morning 
at  Jacob's  well,"  I  answered.  I  took  his  hand  as 
we  said  good-night. 

Oh,  the  stars,  when  I  came  out  from  that  tent  and 
stood  alone !  They  flashed  their  cheer  through  all 
the  Syrian  sky.  A  gleaming  host  thronged  the 
central  heights  of  silence  and  stretched  away  into 
distances  where  even  such  brightness  as  theirs  be 
came  a  dim  glimmer.  A  mist  hung  low  over  the  still 
land  —  land  of  what  sorrows,  what  joys,  what  mem 
ories  !  But  above  the  misty  veil  of  earth,  above 
the  huge  shapes  of  Ebal  and  Gerizim,  above  the 
night's  vast  gloom,  shone  those  stars ! 

Before  sleep  came  in  my  tent  I  heard  the  guards 
which  Maloof  had  set  whistle  once  and  again — whistle 
the  signal  of  the  Arab  night-watch. 


III.   OUR  DRAGOMAN'S   SECRET 

IN  the  morning  I  was  out  for  a  "  shem-el-howa  " 
while  yet  the  sun  was  sending  ground-level 
streams  of  light  into  the  valley  between  the  two 
mountains.  You  ask  what  a  "  shem-el-howa  " 
might  be?  That  is  the  musical  word  of  the  Arabs 
f or  "  a  smell  of  the  air." 

Sweet  as  the  breath  of  morning  is  the  world  over, 
I  fear  that  no  language  at  my  command  will  carry 
across  seas  the  fragrance  of  that  sunrise  time  in 
the  hills  of  Samaria.  But  mingled  with  it  an  odor 
was  presently  scented  which  all  healthy  souls  will  be 
able  to  share  with  me.  It  was  the  savor  of  breakfast 
hi  the  out-of-doors. 

Peering  hi  where  the  tent-flap  was  thrown  up,  I 
saw  my  old  friend,  the  cook,  turning  long  slices  of 
bacon,  already  browned,  for  then-  final  crisping.  A 
dish  of  white  eggs,  a  pan  crowded  with  cherub-faced 
rolls,  a  pot  eager  to  ease  itself  of  steaming  hot  coffee, 
were  close  about  him. 

"  All  ready,  cook !  "  said  I,  cheerily.  "  Where  is 
the  dragoman?  " 

He  looked  up  from  the  glowing  brazier.  His 
hands  being  engaged  with  matters  which  could 
not  be  dropped,  even  for  an  instant,  at  that  junc 
ture,  and  his  available  English  failing  him  in  the 
emergency,  he  called  me  in  by  a  jerk  or  two  of 
his  head. 


NOROOMINTHEINN  23 

"He  —  he  —  non  far  —  non  far  ;  he  come,  mon 
sieur  !  sure !  " 

Little  by  little  I  gathered  out  of  his  broken  speech 
and  sign-language  that  Maloof  had  gone,  as  he 
always  did  when  they  came  to  Nablus,  to  the  grave 
of  his  wife.  It  was  somewhere  on  the  slope  of 
Gerizim,  not  far  from  our  camp.  While  we  break 
fasted  the  old  cook  did  his  best,  in  response  to  our 
questions,  to  tell  the  story  which  I  had  discovered  the 
evening  before.  When  put  together  bit  by  bit  it  is, 
to  the  best  of  my  understanding,  as  I  now  give  it. 

Some  twenty  years  before,  or  a  little  more  perhaps, 
Maloof  with  his  young  wife  journeyed  from  Nazareth, 
where  he  had  grown  to  manhood  and  married,  over 
the  route  we  were  now  following.  They  were  going 
up  to  Jerusalem,  there  to  make  their  home.  Riding 
on  the  nimble-footed  little  animal,  the  donkey,  which 
one  still  sees  everywhere  in  that  land  carrying  all 
manner  of  loads  and  ridden  by  all  sorts  of  people, 
the  rough  paths  had  proved  too  hard  for  her. 
They  stopped  for  a  time,  therefore,  on  reaching 
Nablus,  finding  lodgment  in  the  Medafeh,  or  guest 
house. 

There,  somewhat  before  the  time  of  their  expec 
tation,  a  child  was  born.  The  townsfolk,  true  to 
ancient  custom,  were  unfailing  in  every  kindness. 
But  in  those  days  the  disorders  which  used  to  pre 
vail  in  the  hill  country  of  Palestine  still  subjected 
travelers  to  constant  peril  of  hardship,  and  occa 
sionally  brought  them  to  grief.  Robbery  was  high 
handed,  sometimes  occurring  on  the  open  road,  where 
beating  the  victim  or  even  murder  was  a  part  of  the 


24  NO    ROOM    IN    THE    INN 

day's  work,  sometimes  perpetrated  by  deep-laid 
schemes  of  stealth. 

It  was  difficult,  for  lack  of  English  speech  on  the 
cook's  part  and  consequent  resort  to  much  Arabic 
pantomime,  to  make  out  precisely  what  happened  in 
Maloof's  case.  But  the  main  facts,  I  think,  were 
made  sufficiently  clear.  Let  the  reader  judge  for 
himself. 

With  only  chance  words  thrown  out  to  help  us 
follow  him,  or  a  mongrel  phrase  now  and  then,  at 
length  whispered  or  uttered  with  bated  breath,  and 
meant  to  serve  like  flickering  tapers  in  a  dark  passage, 
the  cook  acted  the  narrative  with  true  oriental  vivid 
ness.  I  had  seen  this  done  before,  once  when  a 
shepherd  told  me,  without  a  word  of  English,  how 
he  could  not  let  me  have  his  rod  or  club  because  of 
the  wild  beasts  he  had  to  face  in  the  hills  around 
Lake  Galilee ;  and  I  watched  the  cook  now  with  some 
confidence  while  the  pantomime  deepened  and 
darkened. 

At  last  the  old  man  crouched,  and  crept,  and 
leered ;  and  he  gave  an  occasional  low  whistle  withal. 
It  was  easy  to  see  that  robbers  came  upon  Maloof, 
and  at  night.  Yet  what  that  low  whistle  signified  was 
for  the  moment  quite  beyond  my  powers  of  interpre 
tation.  But  soon,  when  he  had  stopped  as  if  listen 
ing,  he  gave  the  whistle  again,  a  double  whistle, 
quiet  but  distinct,  then  listened  as  before,  then 
turned  his  eyes  with  a  back-gesture  and  whispered, 
"  Feenish,  ah,  feenish!"  then  grinned  as  a  villain 
might. 

Suddenly  I  recalled  how  I  had  heard  the  guards 


NO    ROOM    IN    THE    INN 

whistle  round  our  tent  that  very  night,  and  all  was 
clear.  The  robbers  had  killed  the  village  watch  set 
to  keep  the  Medafeh,  where  Maloof  and  the  mother 
and  the  babe  were  sleeping.  They  whistled  that 
the  sleepers,  should  they  wake,  might  think  that  all 
was  well. 

Nodding  to  show  that  I  understood,  we  watched 
while  the  cook,  abandoning  speech,  made  a  lunge  — 
delivered  a  blow  —  uttered  a  cry,  a  woman's  cry, 
and  followed  it  with  a  man's  prolonged  groaning. 
Then  he  made  as  though  he  grabbed  for  something, 
and  wrapped  it  about,  and  fled;  and  with  that  he 
sounded  a  woman's  scream.  Then  in  the  attitude 
of  flight  he  brought  his  arms  to  his  breast,  swaying 
his  body  like  one  who  hushes  a  babe,  as  he  did  the 
night  before  by  his  brazier. 

While  he  stood  looking  at  me,  I  recalled  the  bare 
scar  on  Maloof's  head.  I  had  noticed  it  once  when 
the  fez  which  he  never  removed  was  blown  off  as 
we  rode  in  a  storm. 

Having  come  through  the  black  depths  of  tragedy, 
where  his  knowledge  of  my  tongue  had  utterly  failed 
him  —  indeed,  does  not  language  fail  us  all  hi  such 
matters,  though  a  man  speak  of  them  in  the  tongue 
wherein  he  was  born  ?  —  the  old  Arab  laboriously 
pieced  out  the  tale  with  scraps  of  speech  which  I 
could  understand  by  dint  of  questioning. 

In  substance,  I  made  out  that  Maloof  lingered  in 
unconsciousness  and  then  in  long  helplessness;  that 
the  robbers  made  known  their  demand  of  ransom  for 
the  baby  girl  kept  in  hiding ;  that  the  villagers  failed 
in  nothing  through  weeks  of  gentle  care,  save  that 


26  NO    ROOM    IN    THE    INN 

their  poverty  and  peasant  'impotence  left  the  child 
unrestored;  and  finally  that  the  mother,  pining  for 
her  little  girl  and  grieving  over  her  husband,  at  length 
closed  her  eyes  and  was  laid  by  kind  hands  on  the 
slopes  of  Gerizim. 

There  were  a  number  of  questions  with  which  I 
was  still  eager  to  ply  the  cook,  when  the  dragoman 
suddenly  appeared  and  greeted  us  in  his  cheery, 
quiet  way,  making  some  pleasant  comment  on  the 
morning's  beauty.  You  would  never  have  guessed 
that  he  had  come  from  such  a  trysting-place  as  that 
grave  on  old  Gerizim's  side.  No,  some  men  are 
large  enough  to  keep  their  sorrows  so  deeply  seques 
tered  in  their  own  broad  breasts  that  the  shadow 
thereof  does  not  reach  face  or  voice  to  darken  the 
light  that  shines  for  others.  And  such  a  man  was 
Maloof,  O  friend,  now  thinking  of  him  with  me ! 
The  world  is  kept  bright  and  sweet  by  the  triumph 
of  such  heroes.  Even  so  earth  is  in  deep  reality  the 
ante-room  of  heaven ;  for  the  joy  above  is  the  joy 
of  them  that  overcome. 

Soon  came  the  busy  and  rather  merry  time  of 
breaking  camp,  and  lading  the  doleful  donkey  and 
the  muleteer's  beast  with  our  luggage,  and  hoisting 
11  Madame  "  to  her  seat  of  state,  and  lastly  bestrid 
ing  our  own  saddles  —  Maloof  and  I  —  with  the  zest 
of  men  keen  for  another  day's  riding  on  fragrant  hills. 

I  well  knew  what  made    "Madame"  —  that  is 
Maloof's  own  word  —  ride  so  silent  beside  me.     I 
have  often  seen  her  become  suddenly  quiet  when 
hills  were  in  view ;    but  now  it  was  not  the  hills  — 
it  was  that  vanished  baby  girl.     Yet  what  could  a 


NOROOMINTHEINN  27 

man  do  across  twenty  years !  I  dismounted  pres 
ently  and  handed  up  a  nosegay  of  white  flowers 
plucked  from  the  roadside. 

"  They  are  star-of-Bethlehems !  "  said  she. 

We  both  remembered  that  later,  though  neither  of 
us  saw  any  significance  in  the  name  then. 

"  Ride  by  Maloof  a  while,"  she  added  with  a  voice 
of  sympathy. 

I  noticed  that  our  dragoman's  eyes  scanned  the 
town's  housetops,  swept  the  green  and  gray  sides  of 
Gerizim,  and  looked  far  eastward,  where  lay  the 
Jordan's  gorge  and  the  fastnesses  still  held  by 
roving  Bedouins.  But  he  spoke  only  of  the  cloudless 
sun  mounting  from  that  wild  expanse,  of  the  beauty 
of  the  vale  and  the  slope  of  great  Gerizim  in  its  light. 

"  We  shall  have  another  fine  day  for  riding,  sir," 
said  our  dragoman. 

Who  was  I  to  speak  of  aught  else  —  to  pluck  a 
single  leaf  from  the  conqueror's  shining  laurel  by 
mentioning  a  grief  of  long  ago !  Sympathy  is  a  pre 
cious  remedy  for  easing  pain  if  it  be  applied  when  the 
suffering  is  fresh;  but  it  is  apt  to  start  new  pangs 
when  a  bungler  ventures  to  make  untimely  use  of 
its  efficacy.  Therefore  I  did  as  I  was  told  and  simply 
rode  beside  Maloof.  And  bright  was  our  way  as  we 
talked  of  the  morning's  splendor. 

Ah,  the  beauty  of  this  dear  old  earth  when  each  new 
day  kisses  its  worn  features  and  gilds  them  with  the 
shining  of  its  smile  !  The  dews  of  its  night-time, 
which  seem  so  like  tears  often,  sparkle  then  and  make 
its  rugged  face  all  the  more  entrancing  by  reason  of 
the  joy  that  has  come  unto  it. 


28  NOROOMINTHEINN 

Quite  apart  from  the  charm  shed  on  all  about  us 
by  the  triumph  I  was  watching,  which  this  man 
never  so  much  as  dreamed  that  any  eye  was  aware 
of,  though  doubtless  there  is  joy  hi  all  heaven  when 
they  who  dwell  there  look  down  on  such  victories, 
the  surroundings  of  Nablus  are  picturesque  to  a  high 
degree.  On  either  side  Ebal  and  Gerizim  confront 
each  other  hi  such  nearness  that  from  remote  times 
they  who  pass  the  spot  have  felt  the  dramatic  effect 
of  these  vast  sundered  presences.  No  wonder  that 
the  astute  leader  of  Israel's  pioneers,  keen  for  using 
everything  at  hand  to  impress  Jehovah's  will  on  a 
stiff-necked  and  rather  prankish  people,  seized  upon 
these  two  mountains  and  the  valley  between  as  a 
means  of  grace.  Did  he  not  command  that  when 
they  had  passed  over  Jordan  they  should  assemble 
there,  hah*  on  Gerizim's  side  and  half  on  Ebal's  ? 
Then  from  the  side  of  Gerizim  was  to  sound  the 
blessing  of  the  law,  and  over  against  Ebal  was  to  be 
heard  its  answering  curse.  And  so  it  was,  while  the 
altar  of  the  priests  sent  up  its  smoke  down  in  the 
valley  between.  No  wonder  that  they  listened,  those 
full-veined  men  of  Israel  and  their  women  and  their 
little  ones !  Perhaps  they  also  trembled,  until  hi 
the  hush  that  followed  the  ring  of  voices  they  heard 
a  still,  small  voice,  heard  it  and  thought  of  God;  but 
of  that  we  are  not  told.  You  can  shout  there  now  for 
yourself  and  find  what  the  old  sounding-board  of  the 
two  mountains  will  do  with  even  a  lone  voice  like 
yours. 

Streams  run  from  numberless  springs  thereabout, 
making  pleasant  music  like  the  blessing,  or  rushing 


NO    ROOM    IN    THE    INN 


in  deep-toned  torrents  underground  like  the  curse 
that  was  and  is  along  the  paths  of  men.  Olive  or 
chards  are  there,  gnarled  old  trees  with  twisted  coral- 
like  trunks,  but  lifting  misty-green  expanses  of  foliage 
for  shade  and  fruit  for  man's  delight.  Vineyards 
spread  their  woody  vines,  filled  with  the  benefactions 
of  the  grape,  over  terraces  circling  far  and  high  on 
rocky  slopes.  Flowers  tint  the  landscape  every 
where  ;  rocks  mottle  the  whole  shining  prospect 
with  their  gray  hardness.  The  dwellings  and  the 
tombs  of  men  show  out  amid  the  fragrant  greenness, 
and  alike  catch  the  glint  of  the  sun's  shining.  Over 
all  this  picture  of  the  blessing  and  the  curse  in  man's 
life  hangs  the  canopy  of  such  a  sky  as  no  land  can 
surpass  for  serene  tenderness,  a  visible  symbol  of 
the  love  which  waits  to  be  enjoyed  and  obeyed. 
Once  that  love  is  obeyed  —  now  or  ever  — obeyed 
and  enjoyed,  then  comes  to  pass  the  saying  that  is 
written,  "  And  there  shall  be  no  curse  any  more." 

Through  such  a  vale  we  rode  until  at  its  opening 
eastward  our  way  turned  to  the  south  around  the 
foot  of  Gerizim;  then  the  town  was  left  in  its  seques 
tered  nook  and  no  more  seen.  Before  us  spread 
the  level  fields  which  Jacob  bought  in  the  shrewd 
thrift  of  long  ago.  The  tomb  of  the  good  Joseph  was 
thereabout  —  perhaps  where  they  showed  us  a  small 
building,  bearing  the  honor  of  marking  the  spot, 
toward  the  further  side  of  the  plain,  wherein  a  score 
of  boys  sitting  on  a  stone  floor  were  droning  the 
Koran  to  their  stripling  schoolmaster. 

Beyond  that,  nestled  against  Mount  Ebal  in  the 
morning's  shimmer,  was  what  is  left  of  the  town 


30  NOROOMINTHEINN 

whence  came  the  woman  of  Samaria  across  this  strip 
of  ancestral  land  to  draw  water  at  yonder  well.  For 
there  it  was,  a  little  distance  ahead,  Jacob's  well! 
One  draws  near  that  curb  with  hushed  voice.  It  is 
one  of  the  few  spots  hi  Palestine  where  the  traveler 
can  say  with  certainty,  "  I  stand  hi  the  actual  foot 
prints  of  the  Christ." 

We  passed  down  the  broken  steps  and  entered  the 
dilapidated,  fragmentary  structure  which  covers  the 
well's  mouth.  A  peasant,  not  uttering  a  word,  began 
lowering  a  tray  bearing  lighted  candles.  Slowly  the 
descending  circlet  of  flames  disclosed  the  masonry, 
walls  true  as  when  their  builder's  hand  shaped 
them.  At  length  we  saw  the  glimmer  of  water; 
there  was  a  flash,  a  quiver  of  welcome  as  the  tray 
rested  on  its  breast.  The  lowering  cord  was  at  least 
sixty  feet  from  hand  to  lights. 

But  even  the  sight  of  that  water  did  not  make  me 
forget  to  watch  the  face  of  Maloof  as  he  bent  over  the 
well  hi  silence.  Partly  with  desire  to  know,  but 
moved  also  by  sympathy  for  him,  I  asked,  "  What 
is  the  depth  of  water?" 

The  dragoman  began  questioning  the  peasant  hi 
Arabic,  speaking  softly. 

"Twelve  meters  when  last  measured,"  Maloof 
announced.  He  said  no  more. 

After  a  time  we  read  aloud  the  story  of  the  Naza- 
rene's  talk  with  the  woman  beside  that  well.  When 
we  came  to  the  words,  "But  whosoever  drinketh  of 
the  water  that  I  shall  give  him  shall  never  thirst ;  but 
the  water  that  I  shall  give  him  shall  become  in  him  a 
well  of  water  springing  up  unto  eternal  life,"  I  glanced 


NO    ROOM    IN    THE    INN 

at  Maloof.  A  smile  broke  over  his  countenance  and 
lingered,  there  in  the  murky  shadows  of  the  ruins 
over  Jacob's  well. 

So  in  good  heart  we  took  to  the  road  that  leads  to 
Jerusalem.  At  length  Ebal  and  Gerizim,  rising  in 
the  haze  between  the  billowy  land  crested  in  ridges 
of  high  rocks,  and  the  unruffled  sky,  began  to  wane. 
Then  we  passed  over  a  hilltop,  and  the  region  of 
Nablus,  with  its  charm  of  ancient  sanctities  and  this 
hitherto  unheard  romance  of  a  man's  heart  which  I 
alone,  perhaps,  will  always  associate  with  it  and  deem 
worthy  of  a  place  among  its  holy  memories  —  Nablus 
between  its  two  mountains  passed  from  view. 

Who  that  reads  this  narrative  would  have  pressed 
our  dragoman  to  go  on  with  the  story  of  Mary  and 
Joseph  in  the  environs  of  Nablus  ?  Yet,  as  we  turned 
that  hilltop  and  a  long  slope  opened  into  a  pleasant 
plain,  I  saw  no  reason  why  it  might  not  be  mentioned 
and  was  pondering  how  to  begin. 

Suddenly,  far  ahead  I  saw  a  black  line  on  the  plain's 
expanse.  It  looked  like  a  herd  of  cattle  at  first,  and 
seemed  to  be  moving  from  behind  a  hillock.  Yes, 
it  was  coming  toward  us. 

"  What  have  we  there,  Maloof?  " 

The  dragoman  was  already  watching  the  singular 
appearance  with  sharp  gaze.  Presently  he  laughed 
outright. 

"  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  Pilgrims,  sir  —  pilgrims  on  foot,  from  Jerusalem 
to  Nazareth  and  the  lake.  It  is  our  good  fortune  to 
have  a  look  at  such  a  sight." 

Then  he  told  how  from  many  countries  the  peas- 


_ 


32  NOROOMINTHEINN 

antry  journey  to  the  Holy  Land  and  go  in  small 
bands  or  in  throngs  from  one  sacred  locality  to  an 
other.  The  procession  was  still  emerging  into  view 
around  the  hillock.  A  few  mounted  men  were  dis 
cerned  riding  along  the  line.  Maloof  explained  that 
consulates  had  learned  to  send  guards  with  these 
inexperienced  people  on  their  longer  expeditions.  He 
told  how  these  poor  folk  subsist  on  meager  purchases 
of  food  or  innocent  forage,  and  sleep  in  whatever 
shelter  can  be  found  for  so  many,  being  aided  by 
establishments  called  hospices  set  up  by  those  who 
would  encourage  their  pious  excursions.  He  told, 
too,  how  they  often  suffer,  and  related  a  recent  inci 
dent  in  which  thirty  odd  expired  in  a  storm  on  that 
very  road,  most  of  these  wayfarers  being  old  people 
fulfilling  a  hope  cherished  through  a  lifetime. 

As  the  procession  came  nearer  we  heard  them 
singing,  the  poor  souls !  singing  while  they  trudged 
on.  It  was  a  pathetic  melody,  rising  in  the  spacious 
stillness,  a  tune  resonant  with  the  joy  of  souls 
time-worn. 

u  They  are  Russian  !  "  exclaimed  our  dragoman. 

Soon  they  flocked  along  the  road  beside  us  —  old 
men,  with  hot  looking  caps  and  beards  and  quilted 
coats  and  high-topped  boots;  grandmotherly  crea 
tures  with  woolen  skirts  tucked  up  about  bovine 
bodies,  and  hoods  or  bonnets  or  head-eloths  thrown 
back  from  glowing  faces.  ' '  Drastuite ! "  cried  Maloof, 
cheerily.  Immediately  the  weary  faces  brightened, 
and  "  Drastuite  !  Drastuite!  "  began  to  sound  along 
the  line,  while  many  a  toil-hardened  hand  or  long 
walking  stick  was  waved  in  friendly  response. 


NOROOMINTHEINN  33 

I  followed  Maloof 's  example  and  called  out,  "  Dras- 
tuite  !  Drastuite !  " 

"  What  does  it  mean,  Maloof?  "  I  asked  after  a 
time,  still  repeating  the  word  which  they  understood 
so  well,  while  their  pilgrim  song  rose  with  fresh  spirit. 
In  the  merry  tumult  I  could  not  hear  the  answer. 
But  I  went  on  calling  "  Drastuite  "  with  all  my  heart. 
For  it  was  easy  to  see  that  Maloof  knew  the  word  of 
salutation  to  make  them  glad.  And  many  were  the 
faces  muffled  in  reddish  beards,  and  the  counte 
nances  with  pale  blue  eyes  and  the  cheeks  of  bygone 
motherhood,  which  grinned  at  us  kindly  out  of  the 
thousand  and  more  that  filed  by. 

Maloof  was  kept  busy  answering  questions  or 
telling  what  his  own  mind  suggested  about  these 
pilgrims,  until  their  singing  died  away  and  they  be 
came  as  at  first  a  black  line  in  the  distance,  a  quaint 
phenomenon  of  the  world's  manifold  piety  which 
chanced  to  cross  our  path  and  soon  vanished. 

"  These  north  roads,"  he  said  as  we  talked  on, 
"  have  been  trodden  by  processions  of  many  different 
kinds.  Long  before  these  pilgrims,  the  crusaders 
passed  this  way.  Here  the  legions  of  the  Romans 
marched  against  Jerusalem  long  before  the  crusaders. 
The  country  folk  of  Hebrew  times  went  up  to  the  Pass 
over  along  these  roads  year  by  year  through  centuries. 
Yonder  hill,  no  doubt,  many  times  heard  them  singing 

'As  the  mountains  are  round  about  Jerusalem, 
So  the  Lord  is  round  about  his  people,' 

and   those   other  pilgrim   songs   which   are   in   the 
Psalter." 


34  NOROOMINTHEINN 

With  such  talk  to  kindle  our  thoughts,  noon  came 
before  we  were  aware  of  it,  and  down  hi  'the  depths 
of  a  fold  in  the  hills  ahead  we  saw  Khan  Lubban. 

In  this  ancient  landmark  we  doubtless  found  all 
much  the  same  as  travelers  through  that  land  have 
found  hi  the  khans  for  numberless  years  —  a  high- 
walled  enclosure,  with  a  court  for  animals  open  to 
the  sky ;  covered  areas  along  the  inside  of  one  or 
more  of  the  walls  wide-open  toward  the  court,  afford 
ing  shelter,  but  not  the  slightest  retirement  for 
travelers  ;  a  well  of  good  water  at  hand  ;  a  menial 
keeper  or  two,  with  no  thought  of  providing  anything 
for  the  traveler,  and  the  utmost  freedom  for  all  comers. 

We  spread  the  food  we  carried  in  the  shade  of  a 
wall  outside  the  khan,  throwing  a  blanket  on  the 
ground.  After  the  meal,  Maloof  and  I  sought  a  plot 
of  grass  and  stretched  ourselves  thereon.  It  was 
the  opportunity  for  which  I  had  waited  since  morn 
ing. 

"  I  have  been  thinking  about  our  travelers  from 
Nazareth,  Maloof." 

"Ah,  yes." 

"  Would  they  stop,  also,  hi  a  khan  like  this?  " 

"No  doubt  —  in  mid-day,  I  mean  to  say,  and  hi 
the  open  country,  as  we  do  now." 

Then  he  was  silent,  and  so  was  I.  The  hour  was 
heavy  with  heat  and  lent  itself  to  silence  and  dream. 
At  length  he  spoke  again. 

"  I  often  think  here  how  they  must  have  rested  in 
this  very  khan,  for  this  valley  road  is  long  and 
villages  are  far  between.  But  not  at  night.  No, 
the  ways  of  a  good  man's  love  would  have  it  other- 


NOROOMINTHEINN  35 

wise.  He  would  not  bring  his  young  wife  into  such 
a  place  for  the  night,  you  may  be  sure.  Would  you, 
sir?  "  After  a  pause  he  added,  "  Would  I?  " 

He  looked  into  my  eyes  calmly.  Something  like 
the  glow  of  kindled  memories  was  in  his  gaze;  but 
soon  I  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  that  he  could 
keep  his  secret  of  sorrow  secure. 

"  In  the  khan,"  a  look  of  revulsion  accompanied 
these  words,  "  would  be  caravan  men  with  their 
sweating  camels,  groaning  as  they  handled  their 
loads !  Muleteers  and  herdsmen  would  jostle  and 
banter ;  shepherds  would  turn  hi  with  goats !  In 
the  midst  of  such  a  clutter  of  road-life  traders  would 
hawk  their  wares  and  soldiers  swagger  about,  loud 
mouthed  and  leering  at  women !  Ah,  sir,  even  at 
mid-day  and  far  from  centers  of  travel,  as  here  in 
Khan  Lubban,  it  would  be  hard  for  the  young  wife. 
But  at  night  and  in  a  town  —  how  dreadful !  " 

"  But  when  they  came  to  Bethlehem  "  - 

"  Ah,  let  me  speak  of  that  !  "  he  broke  in.  "I 
pray  you  not  to  think  as  I  find  many  do,  not  knowing 
this  land  as  I  know  it.  They  read  the  words,  '  There 
was  no  room  in  the  inn,'  thinking  only  of  the  khan, 
where  each  is  left  to  care  for  himself;  so  they  think 
of  Saint  Joseph  as  left  to  find  lodgment  for  the  Blessed 
Mother  wherever  he  could,  no  one  heeding  them, 
no  one  taking  pity  on  the  fair  young  face,  weary  and 
—  like  that  of  one  whose  hour  has  come  !  And  they 
talk  of  him  finding  a  place  for  her  in  a  stable  —  '  with 
the  beasts  of  the  stall,'  I  have  heard  them  sing  !  Oh, 
it  grieves  me  that  men  should  blunder  like  that! 
It  robs  the  people  of  this  land  of  one  beautiful  virtue 


36  NOROOMINTHEINN 

which  has  always  been  theirs,  many  as  their  faults 
were  and  are  !  " 

"  But  are  we  not  told,"  I  interposed,  "  that  they 
laid  him  in  a  manger  because  there  was  no  room  for 
them  in  the  inn  ?  " 

"  Hear  me,  sir  —  I  will  make  all  clear.  Think  of 
the  Medafeh,  or  whatever  guest-chamber  villages 
had  then  —  think  of  this  as  the  inn  which  Saint  Joseph 
sought,  as  any  good  man  would.  What  then?  Why, 
sir,  this  would  bring  them  into  the  hospitality  of  the 
little  town.  Have  I  not  told  you  how  I  myself  was 
taken  to  a  home  by  strangers  when  there  was  no 
room  for  me  in  the  Medafeh?  You  must  forget  this 
custom  of  hospitality  which  is  the  pride  of  these 
people  even  now,  as  it  was  in  Bible  times,  to  think  of 
our  Lord's  mother  being  left  as  Christendom  thinks 
of  her.  What  a  pity,  that  the  beauty  of  a  people's 
long,  long  pride  in  hospitality  should  be  forgotten  at 
the  hour  of  its  crowning  opportunity!  Our  world 
seems  unkind  enough,  without  losing  sight  of  any 
proof  of  its  real  goodness  and  love  ! 

"  You  stumble  —  pardon,  sir !  —  you  misunder 
stand,  I  mean  to  say,  the  words  which  carry  the 
sweetest  message  about  Bethlehem's  kindness. 
'  Laid  him  in  a  manger  ?  '  True  !  true  !  But  how 
beautiful  that  becomes  when  understood  aright.  You 
think,  with  your  ways  of  life,  of  a  place  for  cattle 
only.  But  have  you  not  seen  that  the  common  people 
and  their  animals  live  together  in  this  land?  You 
will  find  it  so,  in  Bethlehem  —  everywhere  —  even 
now  ;  you  read  of  the  same  in  the  Bible  itself,  which 
is  so  true  to  life  here,  all  sorts  of  domestic  animals 


NOROOMINTHEINN  37 

with  their  feeding  places  in  the  dwellings  of  the 
lowly.  Ah,  I  like  to  think  how,  when  the  little  town 
was  crowded  by  reason  of  an  enrolment,  and  there 
was  no  room  in  the  inn,  some  kind  villager  said, 
'  Come  to  my  house,'  and  so  a  place  was  made  for 
Mary's  Babe  in  a  household  manger !  There  is  an 
unknown  saint  for  you,  sir,  the  woman  of  Bethle 
hem  who  made  a  place  in  her  poor  home  for  our 
Saviour !  Do  not  forget  that,  when  you  write  our 
story.  '  No  room  in  the  inn ! '  —  yes,  as  often  now, 
no  room  in  public  places,  no  room  where  the  crowd 
is,  but  room  in  some  lowly  home,  room  in  some 
heart  that  does  its  best  to  receive  him  kindly;  this 
is  the  way  of  his  coming  into  our  world  from  that 
first  Christmas  night  until  now.  This  is  the  meaning 
of  his  manger-cradle  !  " 

The  afternoon  sun  poured  a  sultry  heat  along  the 
spiral  road  as  we  climbed  the  steeps  which  wall  in 
the  valley  of  Khan  Lubban.  Having  taken  carriages 
for  the  ride  to  Jerusalem,  we  were  sheltered  some 
what  from  its  glare,  and  the  passage  through  the  long 
4 'Valley  of  the  Fountains  of  Robbers,"  with  its  un 
ending  terraces  of  olive  trees  sweeping  and  twining 
their  lengths  along  the  slopes,  was  to  us  like  a  royal 
approach  to  the  city  of  the  great  King. 

A  breeze  sprang  up  to  enhance  the  hours.  But 
as  the  day  began  to  wear  away  a  wind-storm  broke. 
The  dust  became  blinding.  The  curtains,  lowered 
to  shield  us,  bellied  like  sails.  Clouds  rushed  through 
the  air,  black  and  furious.  I  have  never  seen  a 
more  impressive  and  altogether  awesome  spectacle 
than  that  which  spread  before  us  when  in  the  murky 


38  NOROOMINTHEINN 

gloom  the  toiling  horses  dragged  our  vehicles  to  the 
top  of  Mount  Scopus,  and  Jerusalem,  twinkling  with 
lights,  burst  on  our  sight  across  the  upper  Kedron 
valley.  City  of  God,  city  of  what  destinies !  How 
raved  the  storm-clouds  over  thee  that  night ! 

Near  the  north  gate  welcoming  hands  received  us 
into  a  house  whose  hospitality  to  us  and  to  many 
through  long  years  of  simple  joy  in  overcoming  evil 
with  good  would  itself  make  a  beautiful  story.  In 
the  light  of  that  door  Maloof  bade  us  farewell.  "  Re 
member  to  see  the  people  in  their  homes  when  you 
reach  Bethlehem  !  "  he  called,  as  he  vanished  hi  the 
windy  dark.  Our  dragoman  had  kept  his  secret  to 
the  last! 


IV.  A  WOMAN  OF  BETHLEHEM 

DU  froeliche,  O  du  selige"- 

What  was  happening?  Children  were  sud- 
denly  running  beside  me;  fair  and  ruddy 
children  with  countenances  such  as  we  had 
not  seen  in  all  Palestine;  children  with  sparkle  and 
deep  lights  in  their  big  black  eyes !  And  they  were 
singing  —  yes,  singing  to  me !  Alas,  Maloof  was 
no  longer  near  to  smile  calmly  and  tell  me  what  it 
all  meant ! 

My  donkey  promptly  stopped  and  refused  to  pro 
ceed.  I  did  not  greatly  blame  him,  so  sweet  was  the 
sound ;  yet  I  was  eager  enough  to  go  on,  for  there, 
just  up  a  little  hill,  was  the  gate  of  Bethlehem ! 
The  droll  creature  gravely  swung  his  ears  as  if  to 
take  in  the  whole  medley  of  voices,  and  I,  having  no 
wide  range  of  choice,  did  likewise  in  a  man's  way, 
listening  in  hope  of  discovering  what  they  were  sing 
ing  about.  I  often  smile  yet,  thinking  how  a  little 
donkey  gave  me  such  happy  guidance  into  Bethlehem. 
My  notice  fell  on  a  beautiful  child  in  the  group.  Her 
shining  eyes  were  lifted  pleadingly,  her  bare  feet 
pattered  in  the  dust,  her  hand  was  held  out,  shaped 
like  a  tiny  cup,  and  her  lips  were  cooing  the  words 
of  the  song.  What !  Could  they  be  German  words  ? 
Yes,  the  child  was  softly  singing  with  her  mates, 

"  O  du  froeliche,  O  du  selige, 
Gnadenbringende  Weihnachtszeit ! " 


40  NOROOMINTHEINN 

As  I  watched  her  mouth  and  listened  to  the  other 
voices  I  made  out  words  which  hi  our  language 
would  run  something  like 


"O  thou  joyful,  O  thou  blissful, 

it  rr    I 


Christmastide  salvation-bringing ! 


The  world  forlorn,  Christ  was  born ! 
Thy  joy,  O  Christendom,  be  singing !  " 

At  last  here  were  children  who  had  learned  to  utter 
the  East's  endless  call  for  "  bakshish  "  hi  a  manner 
that  did  away  with  annoyance.  This  was  a  fitting 
introduction  to  Bethlehem,  indeed,  this  sweet 
singing  about  Christmas !  No  locality  hi  Palestine, 
excepting  Lake  Galilee  only,  leaves  the  musing  pil 
grim  as  free  from  disquiet  and  revulsion  of  spirit 
as  Bethlehem  does.  The  poetry  of  the  gospel's  be 
ginning  is  laid  hi  a  region  which  to  this  day  keeps  a 
romantic  atmosphere  as  of  old. 

The  road  from  Jerusalem  affords  not  a  glimpse  of 
the  little  town  itself  until  it  reaches  the  hilltop  half 
way,  where  rises  the  bell-towered  monastery  of  Mar 
Elyas.  It  is  six  miles  long,  all  told,  and  is  a  common 
enough  highway  hi  every  aspect  —  this  road  between 
the  village  of  the  Manger  and  the  city  of  the  Cross. 
As  you  traverse  the  dusty  way  up  toward  the  mon 
astery,  there  is  little  hi  sight  to  kindle  the  spirit, 
unless  it  be  the  long  blue  haze  eastward  which  fills 
the  void  above  the  low-lying  Dead  Sea  and  lends  a 
mystic  beauty  to  the  far  heights  of  Moab  beyond. 

But  at  Mar  Elyas  all  this  is  changed.  You  look 
across  a  valley  checkered  with  terraces  and  stone 
walls,  bright  with  olive  orchards,  vineyards,  gram 


NOROOMINTHEINN  41 

fields,  and  deepening  grandly  eastward ;  and  beyond, 
you  suddenly  see  Bethlehem  lying  silent  in  the  sky 
line  on  its  hill-crest.  This  view  is  like  a  vision  of 
things  dreamed  of,  for  it  is  the  first  sight  of  the 
dearest  town  in  the  lore  of  childhood.  Few  hearts, 
I  fancy,  are  so  world-worn  that  they  do  not  quicken 
their  beating  when  that  view  opens. 

And  what  then?  Descending  into  the  valley  you 
come  to  the  poor  structure  called  the  Tomb  of  Rachel, 
she  that  was  loved  at  sight  in  the  old  days  and  loved 
to  the  last,  until  she  died  at  the  birth  of  her  only  son 
and  was  buried  "  where  there  was  but  a  little  way  to 
come  to  Ephrath,  the  same  is  Bethlehem."  Just 
beyond,  where  the  road  begins  to  ascend  into  the 
town,  those  singing  children  surround  you.  As  you 
go  on  up  the  road  to  the  old  gate  and  look  into  the 
great  valley  eastward  where  the  fields  of  Boaz  and 
of  the  shepherds  lie  among  watch-towers  and  olive 
trees,  perhaps  you  are  thinking  of  the  beautiful 
Rachel  and  Benjamin,  her  son ;  perhaps  of  the 
lovely  Ruth  and  David  the  ruddy  ;  perhaps  of  Mary 
and  her  child  ;  perhaps  of  the  women  of  Bethlehem 
you  are  now  meeting,  the  fair,  full-eyed  mothers  of 
such  children  as  .those  who  sang  to  you  at  the  foot 
of  the  hill.  But  in  any  case,  you  are  thinking  of  the 
sweetest  reality  in  the  world,  mother  and  child. 
For  this  is  the  glory  of  Bethlehem. 

It  need  hardly  be  said  that  the  talk  of  Maloof, 
deepened  by  the  story  out  of  his  own  life  so  strangely 
blended  with  it,  had  set  a  human  interest  coursing 
through  my  thought  of  all  I  saw.  I  found  that  this 
vivified  even  the  Nativity's  matchless  charm.  Yet 


NO    ROOM    IN    THE    INN 


at  first,  such  an  alien  was  I,  a  mere  tourist  among  the 
peasants,  I  saw  only  what  tourists  see  —  the  crooked 
little  streets  with  their  quaint  life,  the  hubbub  of 
the  market-place,  the  ancient  castlelike  church,  the 
underground  room  hung  with  tapestry  and  lined  with 
marble  and  glimmering  with  thirty  pendent  lamps 
and  having  a  silver  star  at  the  spot  where  Christ  was 
born,  these  and  the  like  —  much,  indeed,  and  well 
worth  journeying  far  to  see.  But  the  little  town's 
ancient  life  did  not  lay  its  spell  upon  me  at  first.  It 
was  not  until  the  third  and  fourth  day  hi  Bethlehem 
that  I  saw  what  I  now  relate. 

There  was  a  boy  who  took  to  recognizing  me  with 
a  friendly  smile  when  we  chanced  to  pass  each  other 
in  my  roaming.  He  seemed  to  be  a  manly  little  fellow, 
though  not  more  than  twelve  years  of  age.  His  face 
shone  with  good-nature  and  he  could  speak  in  my 
tongue  —  somewhat  haltingly  it  is  true,  but  he  made 
up  for  that  by  talking  with  all  speed  in  his  own.  To 
him  I  at  length  confided  my  desire  to  see  the  people 
of  Bethlehem  in  their  homes,  as  Maloof  had  admon 
ished.  His  black  eyes  kindled  at  that.  Yes,  he 
would  take  me  into  houses  he  himself  knew. 

I  soon  observed  that  he  was  searching  out  certain 
newer  and  better  dwellings  to  his  thinking,  though 
they  were  old  and  poor  enough  for  the  most  part. 
This  pleased  me  not  a  little  as  to  the  spirit  of  the  lad, 
and  I  took  care  to  show  interest  in  what  we  saw. 
Nevertheless,  my  desire  was  toward  the  old-time 
houses  and  ways  of  life. 

In  rambling  about  I  had  observed  that  the  hill 
whereon  the  town  is  upraised  opens  toward  the  beau- 


NOROOMINTHEINN  43 

tiful  east  valley  somewhat  like  a  crescent.  The  road 
from  Jerusalem  enters  at  the  northern  tip  of  this 
curve;  over  on  the  southern  end  stands  the  Church 
of  the  Nativity,  as  it  has  for  nearly  sixteen  centuries 
in  one  form  or  another.  On  the  southern  side,  too, 
is  the  Milk  Grotto  where,  as  ancient  tradition  has 
it,  the  Mother  and  Child  were  concealed  from  the 
terror  of  Herod's  men  ere  they  fled  to  Egypt ;  there, 
a  short  way  down  the  slope,  is  the  house  of  Joseph, 
so  they  say  these  many  years ;  and  below  that  is 
the  cluster  of  houses  where  the  shepherds  dwelt, 
they  who  were  keeping  watch  over  their  flocks  in 
the  valley  beneath  the  hill  on  that  first  Christmas 
Eve.  Moreover,  the  ancient  market-square  which  is 
near  the  center  of  the  crescent  is  yet  well  over  toward 
this  southern  side  like  a  landmark  of  the  olden  town. 
All  in  all,  therefore,  the  southern  end  of  the  ridge 
seemed  to  be  the  place  for  my  quest.  Indeed,  a 
friend  who  knows  Bethlehem  well  had  told  me  that 
the  oldest  houses  and  most  primitive  life  were  to  be 
found  there. 

Presently  I  said  to  the  boy,  "  Now  let  us  go  over 
where  the  church  is.  Do  you  know  any  houses  over 
there?" 

"Come!"  A  quick  pleasure  was  in  his  voice; 
"  Come  !  Anteeca  Bet-lee-em !  " 

Soon  we  entered  the  small  street  leading  to  the 
Milk  Grotto  along  the  wall  of  a  monastery  and  garden 
attached  to  the  venerable  church.  It  was  easy  to 
see  that  the  boy  was  now  more  at  home  ;  he  spoke 
familiarly  to  everybody  —  everybody  except  the 
Greek  priest  standing  in  the  monastery's  side  entry, 


44  NO    ROOM    IN    THE    INN 

looking  rather  imposing  in  his  long  black  robe  and 
tall,  flat-topped,  black  cap,  while  a  line  of  Russian 
pilgrims  such  as  we  saw  when  Maloof  was  with  us 
emerged  into  the  street.  To  him  the  boy  did  not 
speak. 

"  He  took  a  board  of  wood  against  me  one  day!" 
said  the  little  fellow  confidentially,  when  we  were 
safely  out  of  hearing.  We  were  entering  a  covered 
passage  which  opens  nearly  opposite  this  monastery 
door  and  runs  down  the  southwesterly  slope. 

When  you  have  followed  this  tortuous  passage  a 
hundred  feet  or  thereabout,  you  come  to  an  open 
stone  stair  against  the  wall  on  your  left.  Opposite 
this,  across  the  passage,  is  a  door.  Through  that 
door  I  now  ask  the  reader  to  follow  us.  Perchance 
in  days  to  come  some  who  read  what  is  here  told 
may  find  that  door  hi  Bethlehem  and  remember  to 
look  in  thereat.  Know,  then,  that  I  can  not  do  other 
than  speak  truly. 

The  doorway  leads  at  once  into  a  living-room.  A 
small  fireplace,  built  like  ours,  save  that  it  has  no 
flue,  as  I  afterwards  found,  is  seen  against  the  back 
wall  straight  before  the  door.  An  old  woman  sat  on 
the  floor  by  this  fireplace,  slowly  turning  a  flat-stone 
grinding-mill,  dipping  wheat  from  a  tray  into  the 
cavity  at  the  center  of  the  upper  stone  with  the  thin 
hand  of  age.  She  stared  at  me  hi  mute  surprise,  f  But 
the  boy  with  a  few  Arabic  words  quickly  changed  all 
that  to  a  grin  of  welcome.  Soon  she  beckoned  me  in. 

I  manifested  cheerful  interest  in  her  mill,  and  she 
went  on  turning  it,  nodding  up  at  me  and  grunting 
not  unpleasantly. 


NOROOMINTHEINN  45 

We  were  thus  engaged  when  a  young  woman  with 
a  babe  hi  her  arms  came  running  hi  from  the  passage 
outside.  She  was  evidently  the  mistress  of  the 
dwelling,  and  after  a  quick-spoken  conversation  with 
the  boy  she  lost  no  time  hi  making  me  welcome  with 
many  a  reassuring  smile. 

It  is  the  sober  truth  to  say  that  she  was  beautiful. 
And  what  a  gift  of  God  the  human  smile  is !  Few 
were  the  words  which  either  of  us  could  speak  which 
the  other  would  understand  ;  but  she  and  I  talked 
kindly  to  each  other,  and  the  smile  and  the  boy  made 
all  well. 

The  young  mother  was  dressed  hi  the  garb  which 
distinguishes  Bethlehem  married  women.  The  long, 
loose  gown  worn  throughout  Palestine  is  bright  and 
many-colored  hi  Bethlehem.  Around  the  waist  is 
a  girdle  of  folded  cloth  adding  to  the  medley  of  colors 
—  dark  blue,  dark  red,  green,  white,  yellow,  but  some 
how  surprisingly  well  blended.  This  dress  has  an 
opening  at  the  breast,  which  is  drawn  together  by  a 
cord  and  adorned  round  about  with  bits  of  silk  stitch 
work.  On  the  head  is  set  a  round,  high  cap,  flat- 
topped  and  rimless,  whereon  the  inviolate  corns  of 
the  marriage  dower  are  sewed;  they  would  not  be 
parted  with  any  more  than  the  wearer's  womanly 
honor  or  life  itself.  Over  this  precious  head-piece 
is  placed  a  cloth  covering,  white  or  yellow  or  pink, 
which  like  a  veil  frames  the  face  about  and  falls 
gracefully  over  shoulders  and  back.  This  striking 
head-dress  is  the  special  mark  of  the  Bethlehemite 
costume.  Even  an  ordinary  face  is  rendered  pictur 
esque  by  such  a  setting. 


46  NO    ROOM    IN    THE    INN 

But  this  young  woman's  face  was  by  no  means 
ordinary.  On  the  contrary,  it  was  of  a  type  which 
any  one,  woman  as  well  as  man,  would  pronounce 
beautiful.  For  her  comeliness  of  features  was  en 
riched  by  that  happy  blend  of  colors  found  hi  the 
human  countenance  which  all  eyes  enjoy,  and  withal 
it  was  lighted  by  the  brightness  of  a  sweet  spirit. 

Her  face  was  oval  hi  its  lines  and  ruddy  with  the 
tints  of  a  clear  complexion  sun-browned.  Her  lips 
were  full  and  ripe,  revealing  teeth  of  that  even,  arch 
ing  whiteness  which  one  sees  among  the  peasantry 
of  Palestine  with  constant  surprise.  Her  eyes  were 
full-orbed  and  deeply  dark,  but  quick  with  gentle 
flashings.  Her  forehead  was  maidenly  and  arched 
with  soft,  black  hair.  To  crown  all,  the  joy  in  her 
babe,  which  she  held  close  to  her  face,  shone  like 
morning  sunlight.  Morning  sunlight,  I  say,  for  she 
was  surely  not  far  from  twenty  years  of  age. 

There  was  from  the  first  a  haunting  sense  that  I 
had  seen  this  face  before.  But  after  watching  her 
for  a  time  I  concluded  that  this  was  only  a  character 
istic  of  her  type  of  womanly  grace. 

Radiant  with  kindness  —  I  found  myself  wondering 
what  the  boy  may  have  said  to  her  of  me  !  —  she 
watched  and  smiled  approval  as  I  began  looking 
around  her  poor  home.  I  took  care  to  keep  up  a 
show  of  appreciation,  laughing  to  manifest  my  inter 
est  in  each  object  observed,  the  stone  hand-mill, 
the  well-built  fireplace,  the  water  jars  beside  it,  and 
the  like,  turning  to  her  hi  the  door-light  and  nod 
ding  to  express  what  I  could  not  put  into  words  that 
her  ears  would  understand. 


NOROOMINTHEINN  47 

It  was  evident  that  she  was  pleased  and  proud  in  a 
young  wife's  way  to  have  this  stranger  take  such 
interest  in  her  home.  Soon,  as  if  to  show  the  best 
of  all,  she  came  toward  me  and  laid  her  hand  on  the 
baby's  head,  then  hugged  it  to  her  young  bosom! 
My  heart  was  moved  with  thankfulness  to  the  good 
God  of  us  all  at  that.  Then  Bethlehem's  Mother 
and  Child  came  to  mind,  and  so  vivid  and  tender 
was  my  thought  of  them  that  for  a  moment  it  was 
quite  too  much  for  merry  speech.  But  little  that 
young  mother  guessed  why  the  stranger  was  suddenly 
silent  ! 

"  Where  do  they  sleep?  "  I  asked  the  boy  pres 
ently. 

"  Here."  He  waved  his  hand  toward  a  dark  end 
of  the  room  extending  from  the  fireplace. 

"Where?" 

"  Here,"  he  repeated,  stepping  into  the  gloom. 

I  followed  a  few  paces,  striking  a  match  or  two. 

Quickly  the  little  mother  handed  the  child  to  granny, 
still  seated  by  the  hand-mill,  and  brought  me  a  small 
lamp,  a  wick  in  a  brass  oil-can.  She  shook  it, 
laughing  the  while,  to  be  sure  that  it  had  oil.  Just 
as  I  got  the  wick  alight,  a  small  black  cow  raised 
herself  in  the  dark  by  the  end  wall !  Then  a  hen 
ran  past  my  feet ! 

"  No,"  said  I  to  my  guide,  "  I  mean  where  do  the 
family  sleep." 

"  Here  —  all  around  here  —  on  blankets  of  wool," 
he  replied.  In  the  lamp's  dim  light  I  now  saw  a 
narrow,  slightly  raised  space  running  along  the  rear 
wall  from  the  fireplace  to  the  room's  end.  I  was 


I.  ~~~ 


48  NOROOMINTHEINN 

also  able  now  to  examine  the  walls,  which  I  could  not 
do  satisfactorily  before.  Believe  me,  it  was  a  cave 
in  the  hillside  rock,  simply  closed  in  by  an  outer  wall 
of  masonry! 

Having  made  this  discovery,  I  went  feeling  along 
the  face  of  the  rock  with  a  thumping  at  the  heart 
which,  I  hope,  needs  no  explanation.  When  I  came 
to  the  corner  where  the  enclosing  rock  turned  to 
make  the  wall  against  which  the  quiet  little  animal 
lay,  the  lamp's  flicker  disclosed  a  small  recess  hol 
lowed  out  in  the  rock  itself.  I  bent  low  over  it!  I 
passed  my  hand  along  its  worn  surface ! 

"  Very  old !  "  said  the  boy. 

I  held  the  light  close  to  the  spot.  Had  I  found  a 
feeding  place  —  a  manger?  There  was  the  cow.  I 
scented  her  kinelike  breath,  so  near  was  she.  And 
it  was  in  a  cave-house  which  was  the  home  of  a 
peasant's  family! 

While  I  mused,  the  young  mother  suddenly  started 
up  a  short  flight  of  steps  open  to  the  room.  She 
stood  midway  with  her  babe  hi  arms,  called,  and 
then  beckoned. 

"  What  does  she  want? "  I  asked.  The  boy 
answered,  "  Up  there  she  would  show  the  —  that  in 
which  the  child  is  laid." 

I  could  hardly  suppress  the  shout  that  was  in  me ! 
Do  you  see  the  reason?  Why  did  she  think  of  that 
at  sight  of  my  interest  hi  the  old  hollow  hi  the 
wall?  It  was  as  pretty  a  bit  of  evidence  as  ever  a 
man  hit  upon  in  the  dark.  She  knew  how  children 
often  sleep  in  a  manger  among  the  peasants  of  her 
land,  and  was  reminded  to  show  the  stranger  the 


NO    ROOM    IN    THE    INN  49 

cradle,  yes,  the  rocking  cradle  which  her  little  one 
enjoyed ! 

We  followed  her,  the  boy  and  I;  and  in  an  upper 
apartment,  arched  over  by  the  top  of  the  cave,  she  set 
out  a  cradle  made  of  boards,  laid  her  child  therein, 
and  rocked  it  with  the  glee  of  youthful  motherhood. 

I  passed  down  the  stair,  satisfied  that  I  had  seen 
such  a  house  as  that  wherein  the  young  wife  from 
Nazareth,  soon  to  be  the  mother  of  the  world's 
Saviour,  was  given  shelter  on  that  first  Christmas 
night.  The  grotto  over  where  the  church  stands 
may  have  been  the  spot ;  but  this  old  cave-house 
close  beside  it,  on  the  same  end  of  the  ridge,  with 
its  cow  in  the  family  room  and  its  manger  in  the  cave 
walls  and  its  child-loving  peasant  woman  —  this  far 
more  than  the  other  was  like  the  place  where  they 
' '  laid  him  in  a  manger  because  there  was  no  room  for 
them  hi  the  inn." 

How  strange  that  it  had  remained  there  so  long, 
unspoiled  by  man's  tampering  veneration,  a  stone's 
throw  from  the  other  which  men  have  made  so  un 
natural  with  their  marble  and  tapestry  and  lamps 
and  quarreling  priests !  Glad  was  I  to  think,  not 
of  a  lonely  cave,  not  of  a  rude  place  for  cattle  only, 
but  of  a  home,  however  poor,  as  the  place  that  shel 
tered  Mary  and  her  little  Jesus  ! 

Then  I  remembered  the  words  of  Maloof:  "  No 
room  in  the  inn,  no  room  in  public  places,  no  room 
where  the  crowd  is,  but  room  in  some  lowly  home, 
room  in  some  heart  that  does  its  best  to  receive  him 
kindly ;  this  is  the  way  of  his  coming  into  our  world 
from  that  first  Christmas  night  until  now." 


50  NOROOMINTHEINN 

We  were  standing  at  the  foot  of  the  stair  when 
another  boy  ran  in,  spoke  to  my  guide,  and  scampered 
off. 

"  My  father  has  come,  he  has  been  bringing  the 
sheep  !  I  must  go,  please  !  " 

"  May  I  go  with  you?  " 

"  Come!  "  And  off  he  started.  It  was  pleasant 
to  discover  that  I  had  been  led  to  the  cave-house 
by  a  shepherd's  son. 

What  I  saw  in  the  home  of  the  shepherd  near  by, 
the  father's  simple  welcome,  the  mother's  haste  to 
prepare  him  food  and  their  wish  that  I  would  share 
it,  the  way  of  three  small  children,  who  pressed  my 
hand  to  their  lips  and  foreheads  when  I  was  depart 
ing,  all  this  I  will  not  pause  to  relate.  For  my 
thoughts  run  on  to  another  matter.  Above  all  else, 
as  I  passed  into  the  throng  that  had  gathered  in  the 
market-place  and  the  square  before  the  great  church, 
I  was  thinking  of  the  young  mother  in  the  cave-house. 
Does  any  one  need  to  be  told  why  ? 


V.   BETHLEHEM   AND   THE  PRINCE 

YES,  the  market-place  and  all  its  approaches 
were    crowded.     The    prince    was    coming 
to   Bethlehem!    Near  the   point  where  the 
winding  little  street  leading  from  the  Jeru 
salem    road    emerges    into    the    market-place    was 
stretched  a  welcoming  banner.     Early  that  morning 
at  the  other  end  of  the  highway  I  had  seen  Jerusa 
lem's  loftier  bunting  in  the  market  by  the  Jaffa  Gate. 
On  that,  Prince  Eitel  Friedrich,  son  of  the  German 
Emperor,  was  welcomed  —  think  of  it !  —  in  French, 
by  "La  Ville  de  Jerusalem!"     Not  so  hi  Bethle 
hem,  the   kind   little   town !     On   its   banner  were 
the  words,  "  Willkommen  Dem  Prinz  !  " 

The  villagers,  men  and  boys,  and  peasants  from 
all  the  hillsides  round  about,  were  sitting  or  standing 
in  a  throng  that  filled  the  market-place  and  that 
spacious  area  which  still  shows  traces  of  the  atrium 
of  Constantine,  but  is  now  an  open  square  between 
the  market  and  the  church.  Above  them,  along  the 
parapets  of  flat-roofed  buildings  adjoining,  were  long 
lines  of  women  and  girls,  their  bright  garments  and 
unveiled  faces  making  such  an  array  of  color  as  only 
a  vast  flower-border  could  have  equaled.  But 
flowers  could  not  have  matched  them  in  the  music 
of  rippling  laughter  and  merry  chatter  which  came 
down  through  the  sunny  air.  Only  birds  could 
rival  that. 


52  NOROOMINTHEINN 

Turkish  soldiers  patrolled  a  central  passage  through 
this  square,  and  a  line  of  stacked  guns  extended  from 
the  banner  in  the  market-place  to  the  small  door 
which  is  the  sanctuary's  main  entrance.  Flags  were 
waving  along  the  cornices  and  from  the  towers  of 
the  sacred  edifice  itself  —  waving  with  becoming 
quietness,  so  gentle  was  the  morning's  breeze.  There 
was  a  white  flag  here  and  there  among  the  crimsoned 
emblems  of  worldly  power.  Whatever  its  significance 
may  have  been,  it  impressed  me  with  its  fitting  beauty 
there  on  the  spot  where  the  Prince  of  Peace  was  born. 

But  all  this  peasant  array  and  expectancy  could  not 
hold  my  eyes  from  the  glorious  valley  in  full  view 
eastward.  There  are  no  buildings  along  that  side 
of  the  area  before  the  church.  Over  a  low  wall  and 
a  narrow  old  burying-ground  you  look  down  on  en 
closures  filled  with  olive  trees,  fig  trees,  grape-vines, 
and  the  greenery  of  gardens.  The  descending  ter 
races  circle  away  on  either  side  like  great  horseshoes 
piled  there,  with  the  center  of  their  long  curve  turned 
toward  the  hilltop  town  and  their  open  ends  encom 
passing  the  deep  valley  whose  expanse  escapes  their 
embrace  and  lies  afar  in  the  sunshine.  At  the  heart 
of  this  valley  reposes  the  Field  of  the  Shepherds. 
You  can  see  it  —  there  where  stone  walls  surround 
a  number  of  olive  trees.  No,  the  jubilation  in  Beth 
lehem  could  not  hold  me.  I  was  thinking  of  another 
Prince ! 

There  is  a  road  winding  around  the  base  of  the 
church's  somber  pile  and  descending  the  eastward 
slope  of  the  ridge  whereon  it  stands.  This  road 
leads  to  the  village  part  way  down  the  slope  where 


NOROOMINTHEINN  53 

the  Christmas  shepherds  dwelt,  it  is  said.  Who 
knows?  But  I  passed  down,  thinking  that  those 
shepherds  may  have  hurried  up  this  very  road  in  the 
starlight  when  that  other  Prince  came  to  Bethlehem. 
It  is  the  main  egress  from  the  valley.  Peasants 
passed  me  going  to  see  the  prince  now  coming,  Der 
Prinz  Eitel  Friedrich  —  trudged  up  the  steep  way, 
chattering  as  they  went. 

At  length  I  was  alone  in  the  valley.  Then  I  came 
in  solitude  to  the  Field  of  the  Shepherds. 

The  stillness  was  enchanting.  Far  up  the  terraced 
slope  northward  the  monastery  of  Mar  Elyas  was 
seen  on  its  hilltop.  From  beyond  I  heard  the  low 
boom  of  the  great  bells  that  are  in  Jerusalem.  The 
prince  was  coming !  Then,  listening  in  the  valley's 
silence,  I  seemed  almost  to  hear  the  voices  of  long 
ago  —  their  song  when  that  other  Prince  came  to 
Bethlehem. 

On  the  hilltop  westward  the  view  of  Bethlehem 
which  surpasses  all  others  for  loveliness  drew  my 
eyes.  I  could  see  the  square  old  houses  clustered 
around  the  valley's  top.  I  could  see  the  people 
thronging  before  the  church  and  crowding  adjacent 
roofs  and  windows  —  yes,  could  see  the  flags  against 
the  skyline  on  the  Church  of  the  Nativity.  Now  and 
then  a  jubilant  outcry  carried  down  into  the  valley 
like  the  far  sound  of  many  waters.  But  round  about 
me  was  no  sound  save  the  low  song  of  birds  when  the 
heat  of  the  day  has  come, 

"  Perhaps  the  self-same  song  that  found  a  path 
Through  the  sad  heart  of  Ruth,  when,  sick  for  home, 
She  stood  in  tears  amid  the  alien  corn." 


54  NOROOMINTHEINN 

For  there,  near  and  alluring,  were  fields  that  bear  the 
name  of  Boaz. 

Southward  rose  the  Frank  Mountain,  a  grim  height 
resembling  a  truncated  cone;  for  this  burial-place 
of  that  Herod  who  struck  terror  to  all  hearts  in  poor 
Bethlehem  that  he  might  make  sure  of  killing  the 
King  who  was  born  there,  rears  itself  like  a  beheaded 
monster  near  the  town,  even  to  this  day.  Eastward 
spread  the  wilds  that  border  the  Dead  Sea. 

Such  was  the  encircling  view  that  held  me  hi  spell. 
Not  far  away  a  man  passed  with  a  noiseless  camel. 
A  shepherd  boy  beside  a  bunch  of  goats  was  in  sight 
on  a  hillock,  gazing  up  toward  the  hushed  tumult  of 
the  town.  But  these  were  as  voiceless  as  the  wild- 
flowers  close  about  me.  Presently,  among  the  flowers 
I  noticed  the  white,  long-petaled  star-of-Bethlehem. 
Its  familiar  face  instantly  brought  to  mind  the  morn 
ing  when  I  plucked  that  flower  for  one  who  bade  me 
ride  beside  Maloof  out  of  Nablus.  And  then  —  then 
—  my  thoughts  hovered  about  the  young  mother  in 
the  cave-house ! 

While  pondering  the  perplexity  which  the  sight  of 
her  had  raised,  I  heard  a  wild  burst  of  shouting  up 
in  Bethlehem,  a  merry  blare  of  trumpets,  a  long, 
silvery  jangle  of  bells.  The  prince  had  come  to 
Bethlehem ! 

This  ended  hi  a  long  quiet,  during  which  I  saw  the 
people  facing  the  church.  I  did  not  doubt  that  the 
prince  of  Germany  was  kneeling  in  the  ancient 
sanctuary  before  the  Prince  of  Heaven.  And  so  he 
was,  as  I  heard  later,  to  the  honor  of  Eitel  Friedrich. 
Then  the  shouting  started  once  more  and  swelled 


NOROOMINTHEINN  55 

even  as  the  deep-sea  roar  is  wont  to  rise  and  wane 
and  rise  again. 

At  length  I  left  the  sweet  quiet  of  the  valley  and 
climbed  in  the  mid-day  heat  back  to  the  town.  I 
would  see  it  once  more  before  leaving  it  for  years, 
perhaps  forever.  But  not  alone  because  the  Prince 
of  Life  came  there  long  ago  was  I  returning.  Or, 
rather,  it  was  because  he  came,  after  all.  Do  we 
not  get  our  clearest  visions  of  his  coming  and  pay 
him  our  deepest  homage  when  we  go  anywhere  with 
impulses  of  human  kindness  mingled  with  our  love 
for  him  ?  At  any  rate,  I  clambered  up  the  steep 
paths  back  to  Bethlehem,  thinking  also  of  the  cave- 
house  mother. 

The  German  prince  was  gone.  The  little  town  was 
already  settling  itself  into  its  ancient  ways.  I  found 
my  shepherd-boy  guide  standing  with  his  father  near 
the  church  door.  It  was  easy  to  renew  talk  with 
these  friends,  for  so  they  were. 

"  He,  the  prince,  said  prayers  to  our  Saviour, 
like  us,  on  his  knees  !  "  said  the  boy  with  glad  eyes. 
Soon  I  led  them  by  questions  not  too  direct  to  other 
matters,  and  little  by  little,  the  boy  acting  as  an  in 
termediary,  I  gathered  what  the  father  knew  about 
his  young  neighbor's  wife.  Not  much,  he  doubtless 
thought ;  yet  I  would  tell  you,  reader,  what  he  said. 

She  came  to  Bethlehem  about  two  years  before, 
as  the  young  shepherd's  bride  ;  he  had  heard  that 
she  was  from  an  orphanage  somewhere  —  it  was  in 
Jerusalem  that  the  Bethlehem  youth  found  her.  Yes, 
he  remembered  that  when  she  came  to  Bethlehem 
as  a  bride  it  was  understood  among  the  neighbors 


56  NOROOMINTHEINN 

that  she  had  grown  up  in  an  orphanage.  He  had 
himself  heard  her  say  that  she  did  not  know  her 
father's  name,  that  her  friends  at  the  orphanage 
had  answered  her  questions  by  describing  how  they 
found  her  one  morning  asleep  hi  a  sheltered  place 
by  their  house,  and  had  taught  her  to  call  herself 
"  Abdullah,  God's  child,"  when  she  began  to  talk. 

Thus,  a  little  at  a  time,  the  boy  interpreted  what 
his  father  said  in  response  to  my  queries. 

When  I  bade  these  friends  good-by,  the  father 
gave  me  the  beautiful  salaam  of  the  men  of  Pales 
tine  already  described  in  this  narrative. 

Mounting  my  donkey,  I  rode  away  from  the  town, 
loved  since  childhood  and  now  endeared  by  manhood 
memories  to  be  cherished  down  to  old  age. 

Intertwined  with  musings  of  the  Blessed  Mother 
who  there  laid  her  Child  of  Grace  hi  a  manger  be 
cause  there  was  no  room  hi  the  inn,  were  pulsing 
thoughts  about  the  mother  and  child  of  the  cave- 
house  home  with  its  fireplace  and  its  manger  —  yes, 
and  its  cradle.  They  seemed  to  belong  together, 
each  interpreting  the  other. 

It  startled  me,  so  deeply  pondering  was  I,  when 
at  the  foot  of  the  hill  the  children  ran  beside  me  as 
before  singing  their  song, 

"  O  thou  joyful,  O  thou  blissful, 

Christmastide  salvation-bringing ! 
The  world  forlorn,  Christ  was  born ! 
Thy  joy,  O  Christendom,  be  singing ! " 

The  donkey  did  not  stop  this  time.  For  he  was 
homeward  bound,  and  "the  ass  knoweth  his  master's 


NO    ROOM    IN    THE    INN  57 

crib."  But  I  could  not  refrain  from  dropping  a  few 
coins  in  the  dust! 

All  the  way  up  the  long  ascent  to  Mar  Elyas  this 
question  was  turned  over  and  over,  "  Should  I  send 
word  to  Maloof  about  the  little  mother  of  the  Beth 
lehem  cave-house?"  Her  face  surely  was  his  face, 
I  could  not  doubt  that ;  this  was  why  it  had  im 
pressed  me  from  the  first  as  a  face  I  had  seen  before. 
But  more  subtle  and  significant  still  was  the  likeness 
to  him  in  her  smile,  her  poise  of  head  to  express  a 
state  of  mind,  the  intonations  and  accents  of  her 
speech,  and  the  atmosphere  of  her  spirit.  These 
things,  God  be  thanked,  are  indelible  signs  of  parentage 
in  a  child. 

And  she  was  undoubtedly  about  twenty  years  of 
age  —  the  shepherd  had  the  same  impression  —  and 
grew  to  maidenhood  in  an  orphanage,  left  there  by 
stealth  —  and  none  knew  her  father's  name  !  Would 
it  not  be  so,  if  robbers  took  pity  on  a  stolen  babe  ? 

But  should  I  tell  Maloof,  write  him  and  take  the 
risks  of  being  mistaken,  of  kindling  false  hopes  which 
would  blaze  and  burn  in  his  noble  breast?  Even  if 
I  could  eliminate  the  possibility  of  error  as  to  the  fact, 
what  then  ?  It  is  no  slight  matter  to  assume  respon 
sibility  for  bridging  a  chasm  of  twenty  years,  a 
chasm  which  different  life  conditions  may  make  both 
deep  and  wide.  And  how  little  I  knew  about  these 
people  after  all !  O,  it  was  not  so  easy  as  it  seems 
at  first  sight  to  find  the  course  which  would  be  surely 
right,  though  my  heart  leaped  with  its  eagerness  to 
tell  Maloof  I  had  found  his  lost  child ! 

Brooding  on  it  all,  we  came,  the  donkey  and  I, 


58  NO    ROOM    IN    THE    INN 

to  Mar  Elyas  on  the  top  of  the  ridge  half-way  to  Jeru 
salem.  The  donkey  submitted  grudgingly  to  being 
headed  around  for  a  moment.  There  lay  Bethlehem 
silent  hi  the  skyline  on  its  hill-crest.  For  a  brief 
moment  I  gazed  ;  then  we  turned  toward  Jerusalem 
and  Bethlehem  passed  from  view  —  for  long,  per 
haps  forever. 

The  story  which  Maloof  started  that  night  by  the 
cook's  fire  hi  camp  at  Nablus  is  finished.  Will  there 
be  another  chapter? 

As  I  write  that  question  my  own  daughters,  barely 
woman-grown,  are  sleeping  under  their  father's  roof 
in  far  America;  and  he  hi  a  still  room  above  them, 
remembering  what  they  mean  hi  his  life,  is  thinking 
of  the  dragoman  from  Nazareth  and  the  beautiful 
mother  hi  the  Bethlehem  cave-house.  Thoughts  of 
the  coming  Christmastide  are  also  at  work  hi  his 
heart.  He  is  reflecting  how  at  Christmas  there  is 
no  blessing  quite  so  precious,  after  the  memory  of 
the  Christ-child,  as  this,  that  then  the  olden  prophet's 
words  come  true  in  our  busy  world,  "  He  shall  turn 
the  heart  of  the  fathers  to  their  children,  and  the  heart 
of  the  children  to  their  fathers."  And  on  his  desk 
beside  the  pen  that  writes  this,  "  Merry  Christmas 
to  all,"  is  a  sheet  of  letter  paper  whereon  are  already 
written  the  words,  "  Dear  Maloof." 


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